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A BOY’S RIDE 


By Miss Zollinger 


The Widow O’Callaghan’s Boys. 

Holiday edition, illustrated by Flor- 
ence Scovel Shinn. Crown 8vo . . $1.50 

The same, regular edition, illustrated. 

12mo $1.25 

Maggie McLanehan. Holiday edition, 
illustrated by Florence Scovil Shinn. 
Uniform with “The Widow O’Calla- 
ghan’s Boys.” Crown 8vo . . . . $1.50 

The same , regular edition, illustrated. 

12mo $1.25 

A Boy’s Ride. Illustrated by Fanny 

M. Chambers. Square 8vo . . . $1.50 


A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

Publishers 




=*£. 



A BOY’S RIDE 


BY 


GULIELMA ZOLLINGER 


AUTHOR OF “THE WIDOW o’CAIXAGHAN’s BOY3 ” AND 
“MAGGIE MCLANEHAN ” 


ILLUSTRATIONS AND COVER DESIGN BY 
FANNY M. CHAMBERS 



CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1909 


Copyright 

A. C. McClurg & Co. 
1909 


Published September 18, 1909 
Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London, England 


All rights reserved 


a a 246744 

j SEP 20 1909 

r <r 
* v 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

“ Yield thee in the king’s name ! ” Frontispiece 

Hugo seeks shelter within the walls 10 

“Thou art welcome, my lad,” said Lady De Aldithely . . 18 

“ It is well thou hast me to lead thee ” 56 

Humphrey and Hugo in the oak tree 62 

The little spy and Humphrey 74 

Hugo looked about him with interest 116 

Humphrey started up, snatching a great bunch of long, 

flaming reeds 132 

None knew which way to turn to escape 146 

Richard Wood finds Walter Skinner 158 

Walter Skinner’s horse refused to be controlled .... 180 

Richard Wood beckoned the Saxons to approach .... 232 

He rode to the edge of the moat and looked down . . . 248 

Humphrey in priest’s garb 270 

Bartlemy bore garments for disguise 300 

Humphrey, half turning in his saddle, saw a priest . . . 310 






A BOY’S RIDE 


A BOY’S RIDE 


CHAPTER I 

I T was the last of May in the north of England, 
in the year 1209. A very different England 
from what any boy of to-day has seen. A chilly 
east wind was blowing. The trees of the vast for- 
ests were all in leaf but the ash trees, and they 
were unfolding their buds. And along a bridle- 
path a few miles southwest of York a lad of four- 
teen was riding, while behind him followed a hand- 
some deerhound. A boy of fourteen, at that age 
of the world, was an older and more important per- 
sonage than he is to-day. If he were well-born he 
had, generally, by this time, served his time as a 
page and was become an esquire in the train of 
some noble lord. That this lad had not done so 
was because his uncle, a prior in whose charge he 
had been reared since the early death of his par- 
ents, had designed him for a priest. Priest, how- 
ever, he had declined to be, and his uncle had now 

[ 9 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


permitted him to go forth unattended to attach 
himself as page to some lord, if he could. 

To-day he seemed very much at home in the great 
wood as he glanced about him fearlessly, but so he 
would have been anywhere. Apparently he was 
unprotected from assault save by the bow he car- 
ried. In reality he wore a shirt of chain mail be- 
neath his doublet, a precaution which he the more 
willingly took because of his good hope one day to 
be a knight, when not only the shirt of mail, but the 
helmet, shield, sword, and lance would be his as 
well. 

It was not far from noon when he came to the 
great open place cleared of all timber and under- 
growth which announced the presence of a castle. 
And looking up, he saw the flag of the De Aldi- 
thelys flying from its turrets. 

There was a rustle in the thicket, horse and deer- 
hound pricked up their ears, and then ran pursued 
by flying arrows. And now ride! ride, my brave 
boy, and seek shelter within the walls! For till 
thou reach them, thy shirt of mail must be thy 
salvation. 

The drawbridge was yet down, for a small party 
of men-at-arms had just been admitted, and across 

[103 





A BOY S RIDE 


it rushed boy, and horse, and dog before the warder 
had time to wind his horn: the horse and rider un- 
harmed, but the deerhound wounded. 

The warder stared upon the strange boy, and 
the boy stared back at him. And then the warder 
crossed himself. “ ’T is some witchcraft,” he mut- 
tered. “ Here cometh the young lord, and all the 
time I know that the young lord is safe within the 
walls.” 

The grooms also crossed themselves before they 
drew up the bridge. But the boy, unconcerned, 
rode on across the outer court and passed into the 
inner one followed by the wounded dog. Here 
the men-at-arms were dismounting, horses were 
neighing, and grooms running about. The boy, 
too, dismounted, and bent anxiously over his 
dog. 

Presently a young voice demanded, “ Whence 
comest thou? ” 

The boy looked up to see his counterpart, the 
son of the lord of the castle, standing imperiously 
before him. 

“ From York,” answered the stranger, briefly. 
“ Hast thou a leech that can care for my dog? See 
how he bleeds.” 


[ii] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Oh, ay,” was the answer. “ But how came he 
wounded? He hath been deer-stealing, perchance, 
and the ranger hath discovered him.” 

“ Nay,” replied the strange lad, in tones the 
echo of his questioner’s. “ Thou doest Fleetfoot 
wrong. We were but pursuing our way when 
from yonder thicket to the north and adjoining 
the open, a flight of arrows came. I had been sped 
myself but for my shirt of mail.” 

The leech had now advanced and was caring 
skilfully for the dog while the strange lad looked 
on, now and then laying a caressing hand on the 
hound’s head. 

Meanwhile the men-at-arms conferred together 
and exchanged wise looks while a stout and clumsy 
Saxon serving-man of about forty shook his head. 
“ I did dream of an earthquake no longer ago than 
night before last,” he said, “ which is a dream that 
doth ever warn the dreamer and all concerned with 
him to be cautious and careful. Here cometh rid- 
ing the twin of our young lord: and the Evil One 
only knoweth how this stranger hath the nose, the 
eyes, the mouth, the complexion, the gait, the size, 
and the voice of our young lord, Josceline De Aldi- 

thely. Thinkest thou not, William Lorimer, it 

[ 12 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


were cautious and careful to put him and his hound 
outside the walls, to say nothing of his horse? ” 
William Lorimer, the captain of the men-at- 
arms, smiled in derision. A great belief in dreams 
and omens was abroad in the land: and nowhere 
had it a more devoted adherent than in Hum- 
phrey, the Saxon serving-man, and nowhere a 
greater scoffer than in William Lorimer. 

“ I see thou scoff est, William Lorimer,” pur- 
sued Humphrey. “But were he put out, then 
might those minions of the king shoot at him once 
more, and spare to shoot at our young lord. I 
will away to our lady, and see what she ordereth.” 

There had always been times in England when 
no man who stood in the way of another was safe, 
but these were the times when women and chil- 
dren were not safe. For perhaps the wickedest 
king who ever sat upon the English throne oc- 
cupied it now, and his name was John. 

This king had tried to snatch the kingdom from 
his brother, Richard Coeur de Lion, and had failed. 
When Richard was dead, and John was made king 
in his stead, there was still another claimant to the 
throne, — his nephew Arthur, — and him the king 
in 1204 had murdered, so report said, with his 

[ 13 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


own hand. This was the deed that lost him Nor- 
mandy and all his other French possessions, and 
shut him up to rule in England alone. And the 
English soon had enough of him. He was now 
in a conflict with the Pope, who had commanded 
him to receive Stephen Langton as Archbishop 
of Canterbury. This John had refused to do. 
Now, the kingdom, on account of the king’s dis- 
obedience, was under the papal interdict, and the 
king was threatened with excommunication. 

England had at this time many, many churches, 
and their bells, before this unfortunate situation, 
had seemed to be ringing all day long. They 
rang to call the people to the ordinary church 
services; they rang to call them to work, and to 
bid them cease from work. They rang when a 
baby was born, and when there was a death. And 
for many other things they rang. Now, under 
the interdict, no bell rang. There were no usual 
church services, and everywhere was fasting. A 
strange England it seemed. 

The king had never gotten on well with his barons, 

and they hated him. Nevertheless they would have 

stood by him if he had been at all just to them. 

And surely he needed them to stand by him, for 

[ 14 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


all the world was against him. The French were 
eager to fight him, and the Church was arrayed 
against him. But all these things only made the 
king harder and more unjust to the barons be- 
cause just now they were the only ones in his 
power, and his wicked heart was full of rage. He 
had hit upon one means of punishing them which 
they all could feel, — he struck them through their 
wives and children. Some of the barons were 
obliged to flee from England for their lives. Many 
were obliged to give the king their sons as pledges 
of their loyalty. In every man’s knowledge was 
the sad case of one baron who had been obliged 
to flee with his wife and son into hiding. The 
king, through his officers, had pursued them, fer- 
reted them out of their hiding-place, taken the 
wife and son captive, shut them up in prison, and 
starved them to death. Lord De Aldithely him- 
self had been obliged to flee, but his son would 
never be delivered up peaceably to the king’s mes- 
sengers, for De Aldithely castle was strong and 
well defended. 

This was the meaning of the arrows shot at 

the strange boy. The king’s messengers, who 

were constantly spying on the castle from the 

[ 15 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

wood in the hope of gaining possession of the 
person of the young lord by stratagem, had taken 
him for Josceline, the young heir of the De 
Aldithelys. 

And now came a summons for both lads to 
come to the ladies’ bower, for Humphrey had not 
been idle. 

“ My change of raiment? ” said the strange lad, 
inquiringly. 

“ Shall be in thy chamber presently,” answered 
Josceline. 

“ I would that Fleet foot also might be con- 
veyed thither,” said the stranger, with an engag- 
ing smile. 

“ It shall be done,” promised Josceline. 

He gave the necessary commands to two grooms, 
and the lads, each the counterpart of the other, 
waited a few moments and then started toward the 
tower stairway, followed by the grooms bearing 
the huge dog between them on a stretcher. The 
stair was steep, narrow, and winding, and built 
of stone. Josceline went first, and was followed 
by the stranger, who every now and then glanced 
back to speak a reassuring word to his dog. At 

the entrance to the ladies’ bower Josceline paused. 

[ 16 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Thou mayest, if thou like, lay the dog for a 
while on a skin by my mother’s fire,” he said, and 
looked inquiringly at his guest. 

“ That would I be glad to do,” was the grateful 
reply. “See how he shivers from the loss of blood 
and the chill air.” 

For answer Josceline waved his hand toward 
his mother’s parlor, and the grooms, conveying the 
dog, obediently entered. For all but Humphrey, 
the Saxon serving-man, were accustomed to obey 
the young heir unquestioningly. But Humphrey 
obeyed no one without question. It was often 
necessary to convince his rather slow reason and 
his active and many superstitions before his obedi- 
ence could be secured. No one else in the castle 
w T ould have dared to take his course, but Hum- 
phrey was thus favored and trusted because he was 
born a servant in Lord De Aldithely’s father’s 
house, and was ten years older than the mistress 
of the castle, whose master was now gone. He 
had already told Lady De Aldithely all that he 
knew of the strange lad, and had advised her, with 
his accustomed frankness, to put lad, horse, and 
hound at once without the castle walls. Lady De 

Aldithely had listened, and when he had finished, 
2 [ 17 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


without any comment, she had commanded him to 
send the two lads to her. 

For a moment Humphrey had seemed disap- 
pointed. Then recovering himself he had made 
answer, “ Oh, ay. It will no doubt be best to see 
for yourself first, and there is no denying that the 
three can then be put outside the walls.” 

Receiving no reply, he had withdrawn and de- 
livered his message. 

Lady De Aldithely was standing evidently in 

deep thought when the little group entered. The 

strange lad looked at her curiously. He saw a 

slight figure clad in a green robe, and as she turned 

he caught the gleam of a jewel in the golden fillet 

that bound her wimple on the forehead. Her eyes 

were blue, and her look one of high courage 

shadow r ed somewhat by an expression of anxiety. 

One could well believe that, however anxious and 

worried she might be, she would still dare to do 

what seemed to her best. She now diligently and 

eagerly compared the two lads, glancing quickly 

from one to the other, and their exceeding great 

likeness to each other seemed to strike her with 

astonishment. At last she smiled and spoke to 

the stranger. “ Thou art welcome, my lad,” she 

[ 18 ] 











A BOY’S RIDE 


said kindly. “ But whence comest thou? and what 
is thy name? ” 

44 I am to-day from York, and I am called Hugo 
Aungerville,” was the frank reply with an answer- 
ing smile. 

4 4 To-day,” repeated Lady De Aldithely. 44 That 
argueth that thy residence is not there, as doth 
also thy name, which is strange to me.” 

44 Thou art right,” replied Hugo. 44 I come from 
beyond Durham, from the priory of St. Wilfrid, 
the prior whereof is my uncle, I having no other 
kin so near as he.” 

44 And whither dost thou journey? ” asked Lady 
De Aldithely. 

44 South,” was the answer. 44 My uncle, the prior, 
would have had me bred a priest, but I would be 
a knight. Therefore he hath at last given me his 
blessing and bid me fare forth to attach myself 
to the train of some nobleman.” 

44 Why did he not secure thee a place himself? ” 
asked Lady De Aldithely in surprise. 

44 Because he hath too great caution,” was the 
answer. 44 These be troublous times. Few be true 
to the king, and no man knoweth who those few 
be. Should he choose for me a place and use his 

[ 19 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

influence to secure it, perchance the next week the 
noble lord might be fleeing, and all in his service, 
under the hatred of the king. And there might 
be those who would say, ‘ Here is Hugo Aunger- 
ville, the page to my lord, and the nephew of the 
prior of St. Wilfrid.’ And then might the king 
pull down the priory about my uncle’s ears, — that 

is, I mean he would set my uncle packing. For 
the priory is fat, and with the prior gone — why, 
the king is so much the richer. Thou knowest the 
king.” 

“ Too well,” rejoined Lady De Aldithely, with a 
sigh. 44 The Archbishop of York is 4 gone pack- 
ing,’ as thou sayest, and the king is all the richer 
therefor. And this is thy dog that hath the arrow 
wound,” she continued, as she advanced a few 
steps and laid her hand on the hound’s head. 44 I 
have here a medicament of wonderful power.” She 
turned to a little casket on a table and unlocked 

it. Then taking out a small flask, she opened it 

and, stooping over the dog, poured a few drops 

on the bandage of his wound. 44 He is now as 

good as well,” she said smilingly. 44 That is, 

with our good leech’s care, which he shall have. 

Nay, thou needst not speak thy thanks. They 

[ 20 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


are written in thy face. I see thou lovest thy 
dog.” 

“ Yea, my lady, right well. I have naught else 
to love.” 

“ Except thine uncle, the prior,” said Lady De 
Aldithely. 

“ Except my uncle,” agreed Hugo. 

All this time Josceline had waited with impa- 
tience and he now spoke. “ He is not to be put 
outside the walls, mother, is he?” 

“ Nay, my son. That were poor hospitality. 
He may bide here so long as he likes.” 


[ 31 ] 


CHAPTER II 


L ife was rather monotonous at the castle, as 
Hugo found. Occasionally the men-at-arms 
sallied out, but there were no guests, for Lady 
De Aldithely was determined to keep her son, if 
possible, and would trust few strangers. It was 
a mystery to Humphrey why she had trusted 
Hugo. 

“ I may have dreams of earthquakes,” he grum- 
bled, “and what doth it count? Naught. Here 
cometh a lad, most like sent by the Evil One, and 
he is taken in, and housed and fed, and his hound 
leeched; and he goeth often to my lady’s bower 
to chat with her; and often into the tilt-yard to 
practise with our young lord Josceline; and often 
lieth on the rushes in the great hall at the evening 
time before the fire with the men-at-arms; and 
he goeth to the gates with the w r arder and the 
grooms; and on the walls with William Lorimer; 
and Robert Sadler followeth him about to have 

speech with him and to hear what he will say; and 

[ 22 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


he is as good as if he were My Lord Hugo with 
everybody, when he is but Hugo, a strange lad, 
and no lord at all.” 

It was as Humphrey had said. Hugo was a 
favorite with all in the castle. His company was 
a great solace to Lady De Aldithely in particular. 
She was drawn to trust him, and every day con- 
fided more and more to him concerning her pain- 
ful and perilous situation. “ I am convinced,” she 
said one day when two weeks had passed, “ that 
there is mischief brewing. I fear that I shall lose 
my boy, and it will break his father’s heart.” 

Hugo looked sympathetic. 

“ Thou knowest that fathers’ hearts can break,” 
she said. “ Our first King Henry fell senseless 
when his son was lost.” 

“What fearest thou, Lady De Aldithely?” 
asked Hugo. 

“ Treachery,” was the answer. “ There is some 
one within the castle walls who will ere long be- 
tray us.” 

Hugo was silent a while. He was old for his 
years, very daring, and fond of adventure. And 
he loved Lady De Aldithely not only for her kind- 
ness to him, but for the attention she had given 

[ 23 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


to Fleetfoot. At last he spoke. “ I have a plan. 
But, perchance, thou mistakest and there is no 

traitor within the walls.” 

Lady De Aldithely looked at him quickly. 
“ Nay, I am not mistaken,” she said. 

“ Then this is my plan,” announced Hugo. 
“ Josceline and I be alike. I will personate him. 
In a week Fleetfoot will be quite recovered. We 
will go forth. They who watch will think they 
see Josceline and pursue me. I will lead them a 
merry chase, I warrant thee.” 

“But, my boy!” cried Lady De Aldithely. 
“ What wild plan is this ? Thou lead such evil 
men a merry chase? Speak rather of the dove 
leading the hawk a merry chase.” 

“ Even so I will lead them,” declared Hugo. 
“If they catch me, they shall do well.” 

Lady De Aldithely smiled at the boyish pre- 
sumption. “My poor lad!” she said. “How if 
they catch thee with an arrow as they caught 
Fleetfoot? Thou mightest find no castle then to 
give thee shelter, no leech to salve thy wound.” 

“For thee, because of thy kindness, I will risk 
that,” declared Hugo, after a pause. 

Lady De Aldithely put up her hand. “ Hush! ” 

[ 24 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


she said. “ Speak no more at present to me, and 
nothing on the subject at any time to any but 
me. I hear footsteps.” 

The footsteps, bounding and light, drew nearer, 
and presently Josceline looked in at the door. 
“ Come, Hugo! ” he cried. “ Let us away to the 
tilt-yard and do our exercise.” 

Josceline was already an esquire, and very dili- 
gent in the exercises required of an esquire as a 
part of his training for knighthood. But not more 
diligent than Hugo had been during his stay at 
the castle. For Hugo felt himself at a disad- 
vantage on account of having been bred up at the 
priory, and was eager to make up for his short- 
comings. In all their practice Robert Sadler, one 
of the men-at-arms, was present. And both hoys 
liked him very well. He was not a young man, 
being some sixty years old, and gray and withered. 
He was of Irish parentage, and short in stature; 
and he had a tongue to which falsehood was not 
so much a stranger as the truth. He was also as 
inquisitive as a magpie, and ready to put his own 
ignorant construction on all that he saw and 
heard. The two boys, however, had never stopped 
to think of his character. He was always prais- 

[ 25 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


in g their performances in the tilt-yard, and always 
deferring to them, so that they regarded him very 
favorably and were quite ready to abide by his 
judgment. To-day he was waiting for them 
with a tall horse which he held bv the bridle. “ I 
would fain see both of you vault over him,” he 
said. 

Josceline advanced, put one hand on the saddle- 
bow and the other on the horse’s neck, and vaulted 
over fairly well. After him came Hugo, whose 
performance was about equal to Josceline’s. 

“ It was the cousin to the king that could not do 
so well as that,” commented Robert Sadler. 

“ And how knowest thou that? ” asked Josceline, 
complacently. “ Didst thou see him? ” 

“ See him! ” exclaimed Robert Sadler. “ I have 
seen him more times than thou art years old. And 
never did he do so well as thou and Hugo.” 

With hearts full of pride the two went from 
vaulting over the horse to striking heavy blows 
with a battle axe. 

“ All! ” cried Robert Sadler. “ Could the cousin 

to the king see the strokes that ye make, he were 

fit to die from shame. He can strike not much 

better than a baby. I could wish that all mine 

[ 26 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


enemies might strike me no more heavily than the 
cousin to the king.” 

“ This cousin to the king must be worthless,” 
observed Josceline, his face red from the exertion 
of striking. 

“ Worthless! ” exclaimed Robert Sadler. “ It 
were not well that the king heard that word, but 
a true word it is. Worthless he is.” 

“ I knew not that the king had a cousin,” ob- 
served Hugo, with uplifted axe. 

“ There was never a man born,” declared Robert 
Sadler, recklessly, “ who had not a cousin. And 
would the king that hath everything else be lack- 
ing in a common thing like a cousin? Thy speech 
is well nigh treasonable. But strike thou on. I 
will not stay to see thee put the king’s cousin to 
shame, and then hear thee deny there is such a 
one.” And he stalked off to the stables leading 
the horse. 

“ I fear thou hast angered him,” said Josceline. 
“ But no matter. He will not harbor anger long.” 
And so it proved. For before the two had finished 
striking he had returned to the tilt-yard appar- 
ently full of good humor. 

Two days went by. Then Lady De Aldithely 

[ 27 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


spoke again to Hugo of his project. “ Hast aban- 
doned thy plan? ” she asked. 

“Nay, my lady,” he replied. “ How should I 
abandon it? Is it not a good one? ” 

“ Good for my son,” admitted Lady De Al- 
dithely, “ but bad for thee.” 

“ Thou wilt find it will be bad for neither,” said 
Hugo, stoutly. “ I am resolved.” 

Lady De Aldithely sighed in relief. “ Come 
nearer,” she said. “ I would confide in thee, and 
none but thou must hear. I have discovered the 
traitor within our walls. For a sum of money he 
will deliver my son to the king. Ask me not how. 
I have discovered it.” 

Hugo looked at her and his eyes flashed indig- 
nation. “Deliver Josceline, he shall not!” he 
cried. 

“ He could but for thee, for we are powerless.” 

“ Then again I say, he shall not.” 

“ Come nearer still,” said Lady De Aldithely. 
“ I would tell thee the man’s name. What sayest 
thou to Robert Sadler? ” 

Hugo stared. “ Robert Sadler! ” he repeated. 
“ Why, ’t is he of all the men-at-arms, save Wil- 
liam Lorimer, who is kindest to Josceline and me. 

[ 28 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


He will be ever with us; in the tilt-yard, in the 
stables, in the hall, everywhere.” 

“ To watch you,” said Lady De Aldithely. “ To 
mark what you say. To catch your plans.” 

He shall catch no more plans from me! ” cried 
Hugo, indignantly. 44 I will speak no more with 
him, nor be with him.” 

44 Ah, but thou must,” counselled Lady De Al- 
dithely. 44 Wert thou to turn from him, as thou 
sayest, he would know at once thou hadst been 
warned against him, and would hasten his own 
plans. What said he to thee yesterday? ” 

44 He did ask me when I should leave the castle.” 

Lady De Aldithely’s face clouded with anxiety. 
44 And what didst thou answer?” she asked. 

44 1 said it might be one day and it might be 
another. For thou didst forbid me to speak of 
my plan.” 

44 1 marvel at thy prudence,” smiled Lady De 
Aldithely. 44 Where didst thou learn it? ” 

44 From my uncle, the prior. He never telleth 
aught to any man. And no one can wring from 
him ay or nay by a question.” 

44 A blessing upon him!” breathed Lady De 
Aldithely. 


[ 29 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


The boy’s eyes brightened. “ He is a good man, 
my uncle, the prior,” he said. “ And ever he saith 
to me, ‘ In troublous times a prudent tongue is 
worth ten lances and shields.’ ” 

Lady De Aldithely smiled. “ May he keep his 
priory in peace,” she said. “ ’T were a pity that 
he should lose it.” 

Hugo looked at her gratefully. Not every one 
so leniently regarded the prior’s prudence. In 
more than one quarter his reticence was severely 
blamed. By some it was called cowardice, by 
others self-seeking. 

“ And now thou knowest the worst,” said Lady 
De Aldithely. “ Within three days I will contrive 
to send Robert Sadler hence on an errand. When 
he is gone thou shalt go forth in the daylight, and 
that same night my son and I will flee into Scot- 
land. There, if no one tracks our steps, we may 
be safe. Were I to drive Robert Sadler forth as 
a traitor, I know full well that some other would 
arise in his place to practise treachery against us. 
And so we flee.” 

And now Hugo drew himself proudly up. He 
felt that he was trusted and that he was doing 
a knight s part in rescuing a lady in distress. 

[ 30 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


though he had not, as yet, taken his knightly vow, 
and was not even an esquire. 

Lady De Aldithely saw it and smiled. “ Thou 
must put off that high look, dear lad,” she said. 
“ It might beget wonderment in the brain of 
Robert Sadler, and so lead him to seek its cause. 
Look and act as thou hast in the past. Call to 
mind thine uncle, the prior, and guard not only 
thy tongue, but the glance of thine eye, and the 
carriage of thy body.” 

Hugo blushed. “ I fear I am like to mar all 
without thy counsel,” he said humbly. 

“ Thou art but a lad,” replied Lady De Al- 
dithely, kindly, “ and my counsel thou shalt freely 
have. And now I must tell thee that thou art 
to take our good Humphrey with thee on thy 
journey.” 

Hugo started and looked disappointed. But all 
he said was, “ Dost not think him very like an old 
crone, with his dreams and his omens and his 
charms? ” 

“ I may not criticise Humphrey thus,” said Lady 
De Aldithely, gravely, “ because I know his great 
faithfulness to me and mine. And thou knowest 
there is much superstition abroad in the land — 

[311 


A BOY’S RIDE 

too much to make it just to single out Humphrey 
for dislike because he is tainted with it. I send 
him with thee because I have the highest regard 
for thy safety. Thou wilt consent to take him to 
attend thee? ” 

“ If thou require it,” answered Hugo, reluctantly. 

“ I do require it,” said Lady De Aldithely, “ and 
I thank thee for yielding. Now go. Come not 
again to me until Robert Sadler be well sped on 
his journey. Had I but known that he was 
treacherous and greedy of gold, no matter how 
gained, he had never been admitted to these 
walls.” 

Obediently Hugo left the apartment and slowly 
descended the winding stair. And almost at the 
small door of the stairway tower he found Robert 
Sadler waiting for him. The traitor was grow- 
ing impatient and was now resolved to proceed 
more boldly. “ Thou stayest long with her lady- 
ship,” he began. I had thought the sun would 
set or ever thou came down the stair.” 

Hugo did not meet his glance. He was trying 
hard to conceal the sudden aversion he had to the 
man-at-arms, the sudden desire he felt to look 
him scornfully in the face, and then turn on his 

[ 32 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


heel and leave him. And he knew he must suc- 
ceed in his effort or Josceline was lost. 

Meanwhile the man-at-arms stole questioning* 
glances at him. He could see that the boy was 
not his usual self, but he did not guess the cause 
of his changed manner. With his usual prying 
way he began: 

“ Thou hast been here now a fortnight and more. 
Perchance her ladyship will be rid of thee. Was ’t 
of that she spake to thee? ” 

And now Hugo had sufficiently conquered him- 
self so that he dared to lift his eyes. Innocently 
he looked into the traitor’s face. “ We spake of 
my uncle, the prior,” he said. 

For a moment Robert Sadler was silent. “ That 
is it,” he thought. “ She will send him packing 
back to his uncle. The lad wishes not to go. 
Therefore he looks down. Now is the time to ask 
him about the postern key. When one is angered 
a little then is when he telleth what he hath 
discovered.” 

Fie cast a searching look at Flugo, but by it he 
learned nothing. The boy now began to take his 
way toward the tilt-yard, and Robert Sadler kept 
close at his side, talking as he went. 

3 [ 33 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Women be by nature suspicious, you will find,” 
he began. 4 4 They be ever thinking some one will 
be breaking in; and ever for having some one on 
guard. Her ladyship now — surely thou knowest 
she keepeth the postern key herself, and will trust 
no one with it. The grooms and the warder at 
the great gate she will trust, but it is the postern 
she feareth, because she thinketh an enemy might 
be secretly admitted there. Knowest thou where 
she keepeth the key? I would but know in case 
my lord returneth suddenly, and, perchance, pur- 
sued,, since the king will have his head or ever he 
cometh to his home, he hath such an enmity against 
him. And all because my lord spake freely on the 
murder of Arthur and other like matters. He might 
be sped to his death awaiting the opening of the 
postern while her ladyship was coming with the key.” 

“Cometh the lord soon, then?” asked Hugo, 
interestedly. 

“ That no man can tell,” answered Robert Sadler. 
“He is now safe over sea in France; but he 
might be lured back if he knew the young lord 
Josceline was in peril.” 

“ In peril, sayest thou? ” asked Hugo. He was 
learning his lesson of self-control fast. 

[ 34 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Why else are we mewed up here in the 
castle ? ” demanded the man-at-arms. “ I be weary 
of so much mewing-up. If the king will have our 
young lord Josceline to keep in his hand so that 
he may thereby muzzle his father, why, he is king. 
And he must have his will. Sooner or later he 
will have it. Why, who can stand against the 
king? ” 

“ And how can that muzzle his father? ” asked 
Hugo. 

“ Why, if Lord De Aldithely, who is a great 
soldier, and a great help to victory wherever he 
fighteth, should join with King Louis of France 
to fight against our king — why, then it would go 
ill with Josceline if he were biding in the king’s 
hand. And, knowing this, his father would for- 
bear to fight, and so be muzzled.” 

“ And Josceline would not otherwise be harmed?” 
asked Hugo. 

“ Why, no man knoweth that,” admitted the 
man-at-arms. “ The rage of the king against all 
who have offended him is now fierce, and he stop- 
peth at nothing.” 

“ I know not so much as some of such matters,” 
observed Hugo, quietly. 

[ 35 ] 


A BOY'S RIDE 


“ Nor needest thou/’ answered the man-at-arms. 
“ It is sufficient for such as be of thy tender years 
to know the whereabouts of the postern key. I 
would ask the young* lord Josceline, but, merry 
as he is, he turneth haughty if one ask what he 
termeth a meddling question. He would say, 
k What hast thou to do with the whereabouts of 
the postern key? ’ And then he would away to 
his mother with a tale of me, and the key would 
be more securely hidden than before.” 

“ And Lord De Aldithely still further endan- 
gered if he came riding and pursued? ” 

“ Even so. I see that thou art a clever lad. 
Much cleverer than thy years warrant. And I 
warn thee, speak to no one of what I have said 
to thee, or it may be worse for thee. But tell me 
plainly, since we have gone so far, knowest thou 
the whereabouts of the key? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Hugo. “ I know not. I have 

never before thought of the postern and its 
key.” 

The traitor’s frowning face cleared. “ I believe 
thou speakest truly,” he said. “ Thou art so full 
of being a knight that thou thinkest only of knightly 
exercises in the tilt-yard. I will speak a good word 

[ 36 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


for thee, and it may be thou wilt be admitted a 
page to the Earl of Hertford.” 

And hast thou influence there?” inquired Hugo, 
with assumed interest. 

“ Yea, that have I,” answered Robert Sadler, 
falsely. For he had no influence anywhere. “ I 
will so speak for thee that thou wilt be page but 
a short while before thou art made an esquire. Do 
thou but bide quiet concerning what hath passed 
between us, and thou shalt fare never the worse.” 

Then he departed to the stables and Hugo was 
left alone. To be able to conceal what one feels 
is a great accomplishment. Rarely do people of 
any age succeed in doing so, and it was with a 
feeling of exultation over his success that the boy 
looked after Robert Sadler. 

The next day Lady De Aldithely summoned her 
men-at-arms before her in the castle hall. She had 
a missive in her hand. “ I must send one of you 
on a journey,” she said. “ More than one I can- 
not now spare to go to Chester. Who will take 
this missive from me to the town of Chester, and 
bring back from my aunt what it calleth for? ” 

A light flashed in the eyes of Robert Sadler 
which Lady De Aldithely affected not to see. The 

[ 37 ] 


* 


A BOY’S RIDE 


opportunity he had been seeking was before him. 
He would go out alone, but he would not return 
alone. When the drawbridge should be lowered 
to admit him on his return the king’s messengers 
with a troop of horse would be at hand. They 
would make a rush while he held parley with the 
old warder. They would gain entrance to the 
castle; Josceline would be taken, and the reward 
for his own treachery wmdd be gained. He had 
plenty of time to think of all this, for the men were 
slow to offer. Aside from Robert Sadler they 
were all true and devoted adherents of the De 
Aldithelys, and each one imagined the castle and 
its inmates safer because of his presence. There- 
fore none desired to go. 

“ No man seemeth willing to do thy ladyship’s 
behest,” said Robert Sadler, with a crafty smile. 
“ I will, by thy leave, undertake it.” 

Lady De Aldithely looked calmly upon him. 

Thou shalt do so, Robert Sadler,” she said cour- 
teously, “ and thou hast my thanks for the ser- 
vice. Thou shalt depart to-morrow morn, and 
thou shouldest return by the evening of this day 
week. See that thou bringest safely with thee 
what the missive calleth for.” 

[ 38 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ I will return at eventide of this day week,” 
promised the traitor as he received the missive. 

“ And now,” he said to himself, when Lady De 
Aldithely had retired from the hall, “ let her keep 
the postern key. I care not for it.” 


[ 39 ] 


CHAPTER III 


I T was now mid- June. The air was dry and 
cool. But Robert Sadler thought not of June 
nor dryness and coolness of air as in triumph he 
made ready for his journey. 

“ I should have gone,” grumbled Humphrey the 
serving-man when he heard of it. “ Who know- 
eth this Robert Sadler? My lord had him at the 
recommendation of Lord Clifford and he hath been 
at the castle not yet a year. Who knoweth that 
he is to be trusted? I should have gone. I did 
dream of serpents last night, and that foretelleth 
a prison. Robert Sadler will no doubt be caught 
by some marauding baron as he cometh again from 
Chester, and he will be thrown into the dungeon, 
and then my lady will see.” 

So grumbling he was summoned to the ladies’ 
bower just as the drawbridge was lowered to per- 
mit the departure of Robert Sadler. Ungraciously 
he obeyed; and just as ungraciously he continued 
his grumbling in her ladyship’s presence. 44 1 did 

[ 40 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


dream of serpents last night,” he began, “ and 
that foretelleth a prison.” 

Lady De Aldithely shivered. “ I pray thee, 
speak not of prisons, Humphrey,” she said firmly, 
“ but attend my words.” 

“Am I not faithful?” demanded Humphrey. 

“ Thou art, my good Humphrey,” was the 
reply. 

“ Was it then for Robert Sadler to do thine 
errand? ” 

“ I have a greater errand for thee,” was the 
grave answer. “ Robert Sadler is a traitor, and 
we have much to do ere he return.” 

Humphrey seemed bewildered. “ And wouldst 
thou trust a traitor? ” he at length demanded. 

“ Abroad, good Humphrey, and in a small mat- 
ter, but not within these walls.” 

The dense Humphrey showing still by his coun- 
tenance that he could not comprehend his mistress, 
Lady De Aldithely spoke more plainly. “ I must 
tell thee, Humphrey, that Robert Sadler designeth 
for a sum of money to deliver Josceline to the 
king.” 

Humphrey stared. 

“ I have discovered it, and have been almost 

[ 41 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 

crazed in consequence. But a deliverer hath 
come.” 

“ I saw no one,” said Humphrey in a dazed 
tone. 

“Didst thou not see Hugo?” asked Lady De 
Aldithely with a faint smile. “ My lord will be 
fain to do much for him when he heareth what 
Hugo will do for Josceline.” 

“And what can a lad like him do?” demanded 
Humphrey. “ Thou hadst better trust me. I am 
forty years of age and have served the De Al- 
dithelys all my life.” 

“I do trust thee, Humphrey, and I do honor 
thee by sending thee to attend on this brave lad, 
Hugo.” 

“ I will not go,” declared Humphrey. “ Why 
should I leave thee and Josceline to serve a 
stranger? Here I bide where my lord left me.” 

“Wilt thou not go at my command, Hum- 
phrey? ” 

There was no reply but a mutinous look, and 
Lady De Aldithely continued, “ Thou hast doubt- 
less seen how very like in appearance Hugo is to 
my son. This good lad, Hugo, this best of lads, 
Hugo, will, for my sake and Josceline’s, assume 

[ 42 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


to be my son. He will ride forth toward London 
as if he made to escape to his father in France. 
The servants of the king will hear of it through 
the spies they keep in the wood near us. They 
will pursue him while Josceline and I escape into 
Scotland.” 

Humphrey reflected. “ I see it, I see it,” he 
said at last. “ Hugo is the good lad.” 

“ He is indeed, Humphrey. So good I cannot 
see him go unattended. Thou art the trustiest 
servant I have; and so I send thee with him to 
keep him from what peril thou mayest, and to 
defend him in what thou canst not ward off. Thou 
must serve him as thou wouldst Josceline, on pain 
of my displeasure.” 

“ I did dream of serpents,” said Humphrey, 
slowly, “ and they foretell a prison. It were better 
for thee to abide here, for, perchance, it is not to 
foretell the fate of Robert Sadler but the fate of 
Josceline that the dream was sent.” 

“ Abide here, and let Robert Sadler take my 
son? Nay, good Humphrey, we must away. 
Hugo and thou to-morrow morn, Josceline and I 
to-morrow night.” And then Humphrey was dis- 
missed with the command, “ Send Hugo to me.” 

[ 43 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Almost immediately the boy appeared, and Lady 
De Aldithely met him with a smile. “ I send thee 
forth to-morrow morn,” she said, “ and Humphrey 
will go with thee — if thou be still of a mind to go. 

“ I am still of a mind to go, Lady De Al- 
dithely,” was the answer. 

“ Thou knowest the danger to thyself,” she said. 
“ And ’t were not to save my only son, I could 
not let thee take such peril. Cross thou to France, 
I charge thee, and take this favor to my husband. 
Tell him, because thou wouldst do knightly service 
for me and mine, I give it thee. Thou wilt not 
go unrewarded.” And she held out a knot of blue 
ribbon. 

The boy looked from it to her green robe, and 
back again. Lady De Aldithely saw the look. 
“ Green is not my color, Hugo,” she said. “ It 
is but the fashion of the time.” Suddenly she 
drew back her hand and laid the knot against 
her sleeve. “See how the colors war,” she said. 
“ But not more than truth and constancy with the 
wickedness of this most wicked reign.” Then she 
held out the knot of blue to him again. “ Receive 
it, dear lad,” she said. “ Whatever knightly ser- 
vice it is thine to render after thou hast taken thy 

[ 44 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


vow, thou canst render none greater than thou dost 
now render to Matilda De Aldithely.” 

And what service is that? ” inquired Josceline 
as he came smiling into the room. “ And what 
solemn manner is this, my mother? There must 
be great deeds afoot to warrant it.” And he 
glanced from one to the other. 

“ Thou hast well come, my son,” returned his 
mother, gravely. “ I would this moment have sent 
to summon thee. Thou and I must away to- 
morrow night to wander through the forest of 
Galtus and on into the wilds of Scotland, where 
we may, perchance, find safety.” 

At this Josceline stared in astonishment. “ We 
be safe here in the castle,” he said at length. 

“ Nay, my son,” returned his mother. “ Here 
be we not safe. I had told thee before of the 
treachery of Robert Sadler but for thy hasty, im- 
petuous nature which, by knowing, would have 
marred my plans. Thou wouldst have dealt with 
him according to his deserts — ” 

“ Ay, that would I,” interrupted Josceline, “if 
he be a traitor. And that will I when he 
returneth.” 

Lady De Aldithely looked at him sadly. “ We 

[ 45 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


be in the midst of grave perils, my son,” she said. 
“ Control thyself. It is not always safe to deal 
with traitors according to their deserts, and never 
was it less safe than now. When Robert Sadler 
returneth we must be far away.” 

But Josceline was hard to convince. “ Here is 
the castle,” he said, “ than which none is stronger, 
and here be good men and true to defend it. 
Moreover, Robert Sadler is now outside the walls. 
Thou canst, if thou wilt, keep him out, and we 
have naught to fear. Why should we go wander- 
ing with our all on the backs of sumpter mules, 
and with only a few men-at-arms and serving-men 
to bear us company?” 

“ My son,” said Lady De Aldithely, rising from 
her seat, “ thy father gave thee into my keeping. 
And thou didst promise him upon thine honor to 
obey me. Thou mayest not break thy pledged 
word.” 

“ I had not pledged it,” rejoined Josceline, sulk- 
ily, “ had I known of wanderings through forest 
and wild.” 

“ Better forest and wild than the king’s dun- 
geon, my son,” replied Lady De Aldithely. “ We 
go hence to-morrow night.” 

[ 46 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


During 1 this conversation Hugo had stood a 
silent and unwilling listener. Josceline now turned 
to him. “And whither goest thou, Hugo?” he 
asked. “ With us?” 

“ Nay, let me speak,” said Lady De Aldithely, 
holding up her hand to check Hugo’s reply. 
“ Hugo goeth south toward London clad in thy 
bravery, and with Humphrey to attend him.” 

Again Josceline showed astonishment. “ I un- 
derstand not thy riddles,” he said at last petulantly. 

“He is thy counterpart, my son, and he will 
personate thee,” said Lady De Aldithely. “ He 
setteth out to-morrow morn. The king’s spies will 
pursue him, and thus we shall be able to flee 
unseen.” 

“ And thou hast planned all this without a word 
to me?” cried Josceline, angrily. “But for my 
pledged word I would not stir. Nay, not even 
if I knew Robert Sadler would give me up to the 
king’s messengers.” 

Lady De Aldithely gave Hugo a sign to leave 
the room. When he was gone she herself with- 
drew, and Josceline was left alone in the ladies’ 
bower, where he stamped about in great irritation 

for a while. But he could not retain his anger 

[ 47 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


long. Insensibly it faded away, and he found 
visions of wood and wild taking its place. 

Meanwhile Lady De Aldithely had gone to the 
castle hall, when she sent a summons to William 
Lorimer to attend her there. To him, when he 
arrived, she unfolded Robert Sadler’s treachery 
and her own meditated flight with her son. 

“ Thee,” she said, “ I leave in charge of these 
bare walls to deal with Robert Sadler on his re- 
turn. Whatever happeneth I hold thee blameless. 
Do as seemeth thee best, and when thou art 
through here, repair with the others I leave behind, 
to my lord in France. And if thou shouldst ever 
find Hugo to be in need, what thou doest for him 
thou doest for my lord and me.” 

The man-at-arms bowed low. “ I will deal with 
Robert Sadler as I may,” he answered. “ Only do 
thou leave me the postern key. As for Hugo, I 
will not fail him if ever in my presence or hearing 
he hath need.” 

Then Lady De Aldithely with a relieved smile 
gave him the postern key and he withdrew. 

The day was now drawing to a close, and an air 
of solemnity was upon the castle. Each man knew 
he was facing death; each man was anxious for the 

[ 48 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


safety of Lady Aldithely and her son; and each 
man cast a sober eye on Hugo and Humphrey. 
The effect upon Hugo was visibly depressing, 
while upon Humphrey it was irritating. 

Humphrey had been thinking : and while he 
would be ostensibly Hugo’s servant, he had decided 
that he would be in reality the master of the expe- 
dition. “ I like not this obeying of strangers,” he 
said to himself. “ Moreover, it is not seemly that 
any other lad than our own young lord should rule 
over a man of my years. Let the lad Hugo think 
I follow him. He shall find he will follow me. 
And why should these men-at-arms look at us both 
as if we went out to become food for crows? Did 
I not dream of acorns last night, and in my dream 
did I not eat one? And what doth that betoken 
but that I shall gradually rise to riches and honor? 
Let the men-at-arms look to themselves. They will 
have need of all their eyes when that rascal Robert 
Sadler cometh galloping again to the castle with 
the king’s minions at his back.” 

Now all this grumbling was not done in idleness. 
For all the time Humphrey was busy filling certain 
bags which were to be swung across the haunches 
of the horses he and Hugo were to ride. Brawn, 

4 [ 49 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


meal for cakes, grain for the horses, and various 
other sundries did Humphrey stow away in the 
bags which were to supply their need at such times 
as, on account of pursuit, they would not dare to 
venture inside a town. “ And what care I that the 
interdict forbiddeth us meat as if we were in Lent,” 
grumbled Humphrey as he packed the brawn. 
“ Were the king a good king, meat would be our 
portion as in other years. Since he is the bad king 
he is, I will e’en eat the brawn and any other meat 
to be had. And upon the head of the king be the 
sin of it, if sin there be.” 

And the packing finished, he went early to 
rest. 

The castle stood on a ridge near the river 
Wharf e, from which stream the castle moat derived 
its water. Its postern gate was toward the east, 
the great gate being on the northwest. From the 
postern Hugo and Humphrey were to set out and 
follow along down the river toward Selby. They 
were to make no effort at concealment on this first 
stage of their journey which might, therefore, pos- 
sibly be the most dangerous part of it. They had 
little to fear, however, from arrows, as the king’s 
men would not so much wish to injure the supposed 

[ 50 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Josceline as to capture him. They had shot at 
him before simply to disable him before he could 
reach the shelter of the castle. 

But Humphrey was not thinking of the dangers 
of the way. He was up and looking at the sky at 
the early dawn. “ I did hear owls whooping in the 
night before I slept, which foretelleth a fair day 
for the beginning of our enterprise,” he said. 
“ The sky doth not now look it, but my trust is in 
owls. I will call Hugo. It is not meet that he 
should slumber now.” 

Hugo was not easily roused. He had slept ill: 
for as night had come down upon him in the castle 
for the last time, he had not felt quite so sure of 
being able to lead his pursuers a merry chase. And 
it was midnight when he fell into an uneasy sleep 
which became heavy as morning dawned. Hum- 
phrey knew nothing of this, however, nor would he 
have cared if he had. By his own arguing of the 
case in his mind, he was now firm in the convic- 
tion that Hugo had been put into his charge, 
and he was quite determined to control him in 
all things. So he routed him from his slumbers 
and his bed without the slightest compunction, 
bidding him make haste that they might take 

[ 51 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


advantage of the fair day prognosticated by the 
owls. 

This duty done, Humphrey betook himself to 
the walls near the postern where he had before 
noticed William Lorimer aj)parently deeply en- 
gaged in reconnoitring and planning. Now, 
whatever Humphrey lacked, it was not curiosity; 
and he was speedily beside the man-at-arms, 
who impatiently, in his heart, wished him else- 
where. 

“What seest thou?” began Humphrey curi- 
ously as he gazed about him on all sides. 

“ The same that thou seest, no doubt,” retorted 
William Lorimer, gruffly. 

“ Why, then,” observed Humphrey, slowly, 
“ thou seest what I and thou have seen these 
many times, — a bare open place beyond the 
ditch, and then the wood. I had thought some 
king’s man must have shown himself from his 
hiding.” 

“ Not so, good Humphrey, not so,” rejoined 
William Lorimer more pleasantly as he reflected 
that he would soon be rid of the prying serving- 
man. “ Hugo and thou will see king’s men be- 
fore I do.” 


[ 52 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Ah, trust me,” boasted Humphrey, compla- 
cently. “ I shall know how to manage when we 
see them.” 

“Thou manage?” said William Lorimer, teas- 
ingly. “ Bethink thee, thou art but servant to 
Hugo. Hast thou not promised Lady De Aldi- 
thely to be his servant?” 

Humphrey hesitated a moment and then replied: 
“ Yea, in a measure. But I take it that there are 
servants and servants. Besides, I did dream of 
acorns of late and of eating one of them, which doth 
foretell that I shall gradually rise to riches and 
honor; and surely the first step in such a rise is 
the managing of Hugo. My dream hath it, thou 
seest, that Hugo shall obey me. Wherefore I 
said I shall know how to manage when I see the 
king’s men.” 

“ Hath Hugo heard of this fine dream? ” in- 
quired William Lorimer with pretended gravity. 

“Not he. Why should he hear of it? He is 
as headstrong as our young lord Josceline, though 
not so haughty. I shall but oppose the weight 
of my years and experience against him at every 
turn, and thou shalt see I shall prevail.” So 
saying, Humphrey, with an air of great self- 

[ 53 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


satisfaction, turned and descended the wall to the 
court-yard. 

For a moment William Lorimer smiled. “ I 
would I might follow the two,” he said. “ There 
will be fine arguments between them.” 


[ 54 ] 


CHAPTER IV 


T HE spies who kept watch on De Aldithely 
castle were four in number, and were hired 
by Sir Thomas De Lany, who had been commis- 
sioned by the king to capture Josceline in any 
manner that he could. It chanced that there was 
but one of them on duty in the wood that morn- 
ing — a certain short, stalky little fellow whose 
name was Walter Skinner, and who was fond of 
speaking of himself as a king’s man. Formed 
by nature to make very little impression on the 
beholder, it was his practice to eke out what he 
lacked in importance by boasting, by taking on 
mysterious airs, and by dropping hints as to his 
connection with great personages and his knowl- 
edge of their plans. He w r as about the age of 
Humphrey, and though he was but a spy hired 
by Sir Thomas, he persisted in regarding himself 
as of great consequence and directly in the employ 
of the king. He was mounted in the top of a 
very tall tree in the edge of the wood, and he 

[ 55 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


could hardly believe his eyes when, about nine 
o’clock, he saw Hugo and Humphrey issue from 
the postern gate, cross the bridge over the moat, 
and ride away into the wood, which they struck a 
quarter of a mile south of him. 

In great haste he began to come down the tree, 
muttering as he did so. “ They must all away 
yesterday morn to York on a holiday,” he cried, 
“ and here am I left to take the young lord in 
my own person. When I have done so I warrant 
they get none of the reward. I will sue to the 
king, and we shall see if he who catcheth the game 
is not entitled to the reward.” 

By this time he was on the ground and strut- 
ting finely as he hurried about for his horse. “ A 
plague upon the beast! ” he cried. “ He hath 
slipped halter and strayed. I had come up with 
the young lord while I seek my horse.” 

It was some ten minutes before the animal was 
discovered quietly browsing and brought back to 
the watch-tree, and then a sign must be made on 
the tree to let his companions know whither he 
had gone, so that they might follow immediately 
on their return. And all this delay was fatal to 
his catching up with the fugitives. For, once in 

[ 56 ] 



r? 

1 i is Well 
That Thou 
HasMe to 
Lead Thee 
(Faye 57 ) 



A BOY’S RIDE 


the wood, Humphrey’s authority asserted itself. 
He pushed his horse ahead of Hugo’s and led the 
way directly through the thick forest for a short 
distance when he emerged into a narrow and evi- 
dently little used bridle-path. “It is well thou 
hast me to lead thee,” he observed complacently. 
“ There be not many that know this path.” 

Meanwhile Richard Wood, one of the other 
spies, had unexpectedly returned, read the sign on 
the watch- tree, and followed his companion. It 
was at this moment that Hugo discovered that 
Fleetfoot was not with them. In the excitement 
of getting under cover of the forest he had not 
noticed the dog’s absence. “ Where is Fleetfoot? ” 
he asked as he stood in his stirrups and looked 
about him anxiously. 

“ Fleetfoot is at the castle,” replied Humphrey, 
calmly. 

“ By thy command? ” asked Hugo, quickly. 

“ Ay,” replied Humphrey. “ Why, what young 
lord w r ould journey about with a great dog like 
that in his train? If thou art to play Josceline, 
thou must play in earnest. Moreover, the hound 
would get us into trouble with half the keepers 
of the forest. If ever a deer were missing, would 

[ 57 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


not thy dog bear the blame? So think no more 
of thy Feetfoot.” 

Hugo was silent while the complacent Hum- 
phrey jogged on ahead of him. What the serving- 
man had said was in large measure true. And 
he thought with a swelling heart that it was not 
so easy, after all, to personate Josceline when that 
personating cost him Fleet foot. 

But no less a person than William Lorimer had 
discovered that Fleetfoot had been left behind. 
William was fond of both the dog and his mas- 
ter; so now, when Fleetfoot made his appeal to 
William, the man-at-arms at once responded. He 
snapped the chain that bound him, and leading him 
by the collar to the postern gate opened it and let 
down the bridge. “ Why, what would become of 
thee, Fleetfoot,” he said, “ when that which is to 
come to the castle hath come? ” Then while the 
great deerhound looked up expectantly into his 
face he added as he pointed to the place where 
Hugo and Humphrey had entered the wood, 
“After thy master, Fleetfoot! Seek him!” 

The deerhound is a dog of marvellous swift- 
ness, and, like an arrow from the bow, Fleetfoot 
shot across the open space and gained the wood. 

[ 58 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


William Lorimer looked after him. “ If thy other 
commands be no better obeyed, Humphrey, than 
this which left Fleet foot behind, I fear thou wilt 
have cause to lose a part of thy self-satisfaction,” 
he said. Then he drew up the bridge and shut 
the postern gate. 

Hugo had taken the loss of Fleetfoot so quietly 
that Humphrey with still greater confidence now 
changed the course slightly, and went down to the 
river-bank at a point which was half ford and half 
deep water. But at this Hugo was not so obedient. 

“ What doest thou, Humphrey? ” he demanded. 
“Was not our course marked out toward Selby? 
Why wouldst thou cross the river here? We must 
be seen once on our road, and that thou knowest, 
or the king’s men will not pursue us, and per- 
chance Lady De Aldithely and Josceline shall fare 
the worse.” 

“ I go not to Selby,” declared Humphrey, stub- 
bornly. “ And why shouldst thou think we have 
not been seen? The king’s men have eyes, and it 
was their business to watch the castle.” 

Then Hugo sat up very straight in his saddle 
and looked at Humphrey full as haughtily as 
Josceline himself could have done. “ Thou art, 

[ 59 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


for the time, my servant,” he said. “ And we go 
to Selby.” 

For a moment Humphrey was disconcerted, but 
he did not relinquish his own plan. Presently he 
said: “If we must go to Selby, let us cross the 
river here. We can go on the south side of it as 
well as the north.” 

Hugo reflected. Then without a word he di- 
rected his horse down the bank and into the water, 
which was here swimming deep. Well satisfied, 
Humphrey followed. 

“ I did not dream of acorns and of eating one 
of them for nothing,” he said to himself. “ I shall 
be master yet.” 

And hardly had the words passed through his 
mind when splash went a heavy body into the 
water behind the two swimming horses. Fleetfoot 
had come up with his master. Swiftly Hugo and 
Humphrey turned their heads, Hugo with a smile 
and an encouraging motion of the hand toward his 
dog, and Humphrey with a frown. “ I would I 
knew who sent the hound after us,” grumbled the 
disgusted serving-man to himself when, the shal- 
low water reached, both riders drew rein for the 
horses to drink. 


[ 60 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Once across the Wharf e Humphrey led the way 
to a heavy thicket, and dismounting pushed the 
growth this way and that and so made a passage 
for the horses, Fleetfoot, Hugo, and himself. In 
the middle of the thick was a little cleared grassy 
place where, crowded closely together, all might 
find room, and here Humphrey announced that 
they would take their midday rest and meal. 

Hugo still said nothing, but he looked very de- 
termined, as Humphrey could see. “ But I go 
not to Selby,” thought the stubborn serving-man. 
“ I run not my head into the king’s noose so near 
home.” 

It was an early nooning they had taken, for it 
was barely half -past twelve when Humphrey broke 
the silence. He rose, tied each horse securely, and 
then turning to Hugo said: “ Bid the dog stay 
here. We will go and have a look over the 
country.” 

Hugo rose, laid down his bow and arrows, and, 
bidding the dog watch them, followed Humphrey 
out of the thicket. 

The serving-man, who was well acquainted with 

this part of the country, now made a little detour 

into a path which he followed a short distance till 

[ 61 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


he came out a quarter of a mile away from the 
thicket into a grassy glade in the centre of which 
towered one of those enormous oaks of which there 
were many in England at this time. “ We will 
climb up,” said Humphrey, “ and have a look.” 

Up they went; Hugo nimbly and Humphrey 
clumsily and slowly, as became his years and ex- 
perience, as William Lorimer would have said if he 
had seen him. Barely had they reached complete 
cover, and the rustling they made had just ceased, 
when the tramp of two approaching horses was 
heard. The sky was now overcast with clouds in 
spite of the prognostications of the owls, and the 
rain began to descend heavily, so that the two 
riders sought refuge beneath the tree. Hugo and 
Humphrey looked at each other and then down 
upon the horsemen, who were the two spies, Walter 
Skinner and Richard Wood. 

“ I had thought to have come up with them ere 
this,” said Walter Skinner. “ They had not more 
than half an hour the start of me.” 

“ Have no fear,” replied Richard Wood, who 
was a tall and determined-looking man. “ They 
have most like gone on to Selby on the north side 

of the river. We shall catch them there.” 

[ 62 ] 




Humbkrey and 
Hugo m ike 
Oak Tree. 










A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Thou saidst there is no one to watch the 
castle?” inquired Walter Skinner. 

“Ay, I said it,” returned Richard Wood. 
“ Why, who should there be when Sir Thomas 
hath taken the other two and gone off to get a 
troop together against Robert Sadler’s return? 
There be thirty men-at-arms within the castle, and 
all will fight to the death if need be, and none 
more fiercely than William Lorimer. So saith 
Robert Sadler. He giveth not so brave an ac- 
count of the warder and the grooms at the draw- 
bridge, for, saith he, ‘ The warder is old and 
slow, and the grooms stupid.’ It was well we 
fell in with Robert Sadler as he departed on his 
journey.” 

There was a brief silence while the rain still fell 
heavily, though the sky showed signs of clearing. 
Then Walter Skinner in his small cracked voice 
laughed aloud. “ The troop will be there, and 
there will be hard fighting for naught,” he said. 
“ For the prize is escaped and we shall capture 
it and have the reward.” 

“What thinkest thou of Selby?” asked Hum- 
phrey, when the two spies had gone on toward the 


river. 


[ 63 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ I think thou art right,” answered Hugo, 
frankly. 

Without a w r ord Humphrey climbed still higher 
in the tree and gazed after the two till they were 
hidden from view in the forest. 

“ Hast thou been before in this wood? ” he in- 
quired, when he and Hugo had descended and 
stood upon the ground. 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. 

“ I thought not. Ask me no questions and I 
will lead thee through it. I know it of old.” 

Hugo at this looked rather resentful. He had 
regarded himself as the important personage on 
the journey just undertaken, and now it seemed 
that the serving-man regarded the important per- 
sonage as Humphrey. And the boy thought that 
because Humphrey had been right in his purpose 
to avoid Selby was no reason why he should as- 
sume the charge of the expedition. He did not 
dispute him, however, but followed the triumphant 
serving-man back to the thicket, to the horses, his 
bow and arrows, and his dog. 

In a short time they were out of the thicket 
and mounted; and then Humphrey condescend- 
ingly said to Hugo: “Follow me, and thou shalt 

[ 64 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


see I will keep out of sight of keepers and rangers. 
And keep thy hound beside thee, if thou canst. 
He is like to make us trouble.” 

At this Hugo felt indignant. He was not ac- 
customed to be treated as if he were a small 
child. 

They now jogged on in silence a few zigzag 
miles until Humphrey came to another thicket, in 
which he announced they would pass the night. 
“ Had we kept the open path,” he observed, “ we 
might have been further along on our journey, 
if, perchance, we had not been entirely stopped 
by a ranger or a king’s man.” 

“ The two spies went down the Wharf e toward 
the Ouse and Selby,” remarked Hugo. 

“ Oh, ay,” returned Humphrey. “ But the king 
hath many men, and they all know how to do a 
mischief for which there is no redress. Hadst thou 
been a Saxon as long as I have been, and that is 
forty years, thou hadst found it out before this. 
And now I will make a fire, for the night is 
chill, and, moreover, I would have a cake of meal 
for my supper.” So saying, he set to work with 
his flint and soon had a fire in the small open place 
in the midst of the thicket. 

5 [ 65 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Hast thou no fear of the ranger? ” asked Hugo. 

“Not I. This thick is well off his track. I 
would have no fear of him at any time but for 
thy dog. Moreover, he is a timid man, and the 
wood hath many robbers roving around in it. 
Could he meet us alone with thy dog, there would 
be trouble. But here I fear him not.” 

Hugo laid his hand on Fleetfoot’s head. “ Thou 
hast no friend in Humphrey,” he said in a low 
tone as he looked into the dog’s eyes. Then, while 
Humphrey baked the oatmeal cake in the coals, 
Hugo gave the dog as liberal a supper as he could 
from their scant supply. 

“ Be not too free,” cautioned Humphrey, as he 
glanced over his shoulder. “ We have yet many 
days to journey ere we reach London if we escape 
the clutches of the king’s men. Could they but 
look in at the castle now, I warrant they would 
laugh louder and longer than they did under the 
big oak.” 

Hugo glanced around him nervously. 

“Tush, boy! what fearest thou?” said Hum- 
phrey. “ Here be no listeners. Thou knowest this 
is the hour. I tell thee frankly I had rather be 

with her ladyship than to lead thee in safety ; yea, 

[ 66 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


even though the way lay, as her way doth lie, 
through that robber-infested forest of Galtus. 
Hast heard how there be lights shown in York 
to guide those coming into the town from that 
wild place? ” 

“Yea,” answered Hugo, briefly. 

Humphrey sighed. “ There will be somewhat 
to do on that journey,” he said. “ A train of 
sumpter mules carry the clothing, the massy silver 
dishes, and the rich hangings; and with them go 
all the serving-men and half the men-at-arms.” 

“ I pray thee, cease thy speech,” said Hugo, still 
more nervously as he looked about him apprehen- 
sively in the semi-darkness of the fire-lit enclosure. 
“ Thy prating may mar all.” 

“Was it for this,” demanded Humphrey, “that 
I did dream of acorns and of eating one of them, 
wliich foretelleth, as all men know, a gradual rise 
to riches and honor, that I should be bid to cease 
prating by a stranger, and he a mere lad? But 
I can cease, if it please thee. I had not come 
with thee but for her ladyship’s commands.” And 
in much dudgeon he composed himself to sleep. 

As for Hugo, he lay on the grass, his eyes on 
the glimmering fire, and his ears alert for any 

[ 67 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


sound. But all was still; and he soon fell to pic- 
turing the scene at the castle, — Lady De Aldi- 
thely and Josceline, mounted for their journey, 
going out at the postern gate at the head of the 
train of sumpter mules and attended by the band 
of serving-men and men-at-arms. And with all 
his heart he hoped for their safety. He did not 
wonder at their taking their treasures with them. 
It was the custom of the time to do so, and was 
quite as sensible as leaving them behind to be stolen. 

The great deerhound blinked his eyes lazily in 
the firelight and drew, after a while, the lad’s 
thoughts away from the castle. What should he 
do with Fleetfoot? How should he feed him, and 
with what? And how should he get him through 
the town of F errybridge near which they now were, 
and which they must pass through in the morning, 
unless Humphrey would agree to swim the horses 
across the Aire above the town and so avoid it? 

And now the wood seemed to awake. Owls in- 
sisted to the ears of the sleeping Humphrey that 
the morrow would be a fair day. Leaves rustled in 
the gentle wind. Far off sounded a wildcat’s cry. 
And with these sounds in his ears Hugo fell asleep., 


[ 68 ] 


CHAPTER V 


T HE fire was plentifully renewed, and Hum- 
phrey was preparing breakfast when, in the 
morning, Hugo awoke. 

With what seemed to the boy a reckless hand, 
the serving-man flung Fleetfoot his breakfast. 
“ He may eat his fill if he will,” said Humphrey, 
noting Hugo’s expression of surprise. “ He hath 
already so lowered our store that more must be 
bought.” 

“And where?” inquired Hugo. 

“ At Ferrybridge,” returned Humphrey, com- 
placently, to Hugo’s dismay. 

“ I had thought best to avoid Ferrybridge,” said 
Hugo. 4 4 1 would swim the horses across the Aire 
above the town.” 

Humphrey seemed to ruminate a short time. 
Then he put on a look of stupid wisdom. “ Let 
us have breakfast now,” he said. 

Hugo looked at him impatiently, and wondered 
how he could ever have found such favor with 

[ 69 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Lady De Aldithely. But in silence he took the 
brawn and oat-cake Humphrey gave him. The 
horses were already feeding, and, despatching his 
own breakfast with great celerity, Humphrey soon 
had them ready for the day’s journey. Still in 
silence Hugo mounted, for a glance at the stub- 
born Humphrey’s face told him he might as well 
hold his peace. 

Straight toward the river-bank rode Humphrey, 
while Hugo and Fleetfoot followed. 

“There!” said Humphrey, when they had 
reached the river’s brink. “ Seest thou that thick 
across the stream? Swim thy horse and thy dog 
across, and bide there in that thick for me. I go 
to the town to buy supplies. Last night I did 
have two dreams. I had but gone to sleep when 
I dreamed I was going up a ladder. Knowest 
thou what that meaneth? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. “ I am not skilled in old 
woman’s lore.” 

Humphrey frowned. “ Thou mayest call it what 
thou likest,” he said, “ but dreams be dreams; and 
this one signifieth honor. I waked only long 
enough to meditate upon it and fell asleep again, 
and dreamed I climbed once more the big oak of 

[ 70 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


yesterday. And that meaneth great preferment. 
Canst thou see now how I have no cause to fear 
king’s men? For what honor could it be to be 
caught by them? or what preferment to be laid by 
the heels in the king’s dungeon? And canst thou 
see how it is meet for me to go into the town, 
and for thee and the hound to swim the river? I 
warrant thee the king’s men, though they fill the 
streets of Ferrybridge, will be no match for me 
with such a dream as that.” 

Then Hugo lost his temper. “ Thou art a fool- 
ish fellow,” he said, “ and moreover thou art but 
my servant. Where is thy prudence of yesterday? 
I am of a mind to forbid thee to go into the town. 
But this I tell thee; I know this region by report. 
We be not so many miles from Pontefract castle. 
If thou comest not to the thick by noon, Fleet- 
foot and I journey on southward, and thou mayest 
overtake us as thou canst.” 

“ I know not if I can come by noon,” answered 
Humphrey, more submissively than he had yet 
spoken. “ Never have I been in Ferrybridge. I 
know not what supplies I may find.” 

“ Take care thou find not the king’s men,” said 

Hugo. “ At noon Fleetfoot and I journey on.” 

[ 71 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


With that he directed his horse into the water, 
Fleetfoot followed, and Humphrey was left on 
the bank. 

“Ay,” he said to himself, rather ruefully, 
“ thou canst play the master as haughtily as our 
young lord Josceline himself when it pleaseth 
thee. But for all that, last night I did go up a 
ladder and climb a tree. No doubt I shall yet 
prevail.” 

Then he galloped off toward the town, where he 
mingled with the throng of people quite unnoticed 
in the number, for, in spite of the interdict which 
forbade amusements of all kinds, a tournament 
was to be held at Doncaster, and many were on 
the way to attend it. Since the king scouted the 
interdict, many of the people braved it also, and 
the inns were already full. Humphrey was riding 
slowly along with curious eyes when, in the throng, 
he caught sight of Walter Skinner, the pompous 
little spy, who sat up very straight on his horse, 
and looked fiercely around, as if to warn the people 
of what they might expect if they unduly jostled 
him, the king’s man. For so he regarded himself, 
although he was only the hired spy of Sir Thomas 
De Lany. 


[ 72 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


‘'A plague upon my dreams!” thought Hum- 
phrey, his native common sense getting the better 
of his superstition. “ I had never ventured my 
head in this noose but for them. I must now get 
it out as I can, but that will never be done by 
noon.” 

Almost as soon as Humphrey had seen him, 
Walter Skinner had seen Humphrey, and had 
recognized both man and horse as the same he 
had seen from the treetop leaving the castle with 
Hugo the previous day. Not finding any trace 
of the two in the neighborhood of Selby, he had 
come on to Ferrybridge, while his companion, 
Richard Wood, had gone south by the very way 
Hugo would start out on at noon. He gave no 
sign of recognizing Humphrey, however, and 
Humphrey seemed not to recognize him. 

Said Walter Skinner to himself, “ I will not 
alarm him, and the sooner he will lead me to his 
master.” 

While Humphrey thought, “ I will not seem to 
see him, and when I can, I give him the slip.” 

So up and down the narrow streets rode these 
two, Walter Skinner looking fiercely upon the in- 
nocent throng, and Humphrey apparently gazing 

[ 73 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


about him with all a countryman’s curiosity. 
Noon came and Humphrey managed to find a 
place for himself and horse at an inn. “ I may 
as well eat and drink,” he said, “for what profit 
is it to be going up and down these narrow streets? 
At every turn is this little cock of a king’s man 
who, though he croweth not with his mouth, doeth 
so with his looks. I know not for whom he is 
seeking. Not for me, or he would assail me and 
capture me and put me to the torture to tell him 
where Hugo is, for he thinketh Hugo is Josceline, 
which he is not, but a stranger, and a headstrong 
one. There is nothing in dreaming of going 
up a ladder or climbing a tree, if I get not the 
better of him.” And so he betook him to his 
dinner. 

The little spy followed him, and the inn-keeper 
was obliged to make room for him also, which, 
when Humphrey saw, he changed his opinion as 
to whom the spy was in search of. “ He think- 
eth,” said Humphrey to himself, with sudden en- 
lightenment, “ to follow me quietly and so find 
Hugo.” 

Humphrey was ever a gross eater, and Walter 
Skinner watched him with great impatience and 

D4] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


dissatisfaction. For Humphrey ate as if no anxi- 
ety preyed upon his mind, but as if his whole con- 
cern was to make away with all placed before 
him. 

“It may be,” reflected Walter Skinner, “that 
he hath bestowed his master, as he thinketh in 
safety, in a neighboring abbey or priory. From 
whence my master will not be long in haling him 
out. F or what careth the king for abbots or priors ? 
And so let him leave off this partridge dance he 
hath been leading me about the streets.” And he 
scowled upon the apparently unconscious serving- 
man. 

“ Ay, let him scowl,” thought Humphrey, with 
his mouth full of savory viands that filled him with 
satisfaction. “ He may do more scowling ere even- 
ing if he like. I did go up a ladder and climb a 
tree last night.” 

His dinner over, Humphrey went out to the 
stables, whither Walter Skinner followed him as 
if to look after the welfare of his own horse, thus 
confirming Humphrey’s suspicion that he had rec- 
ognized him. And the serving-man at once put 
on an air of self-confidence and pride in his own 
wisdom which effectually concealed his anxiety 

[ 75 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


from the watching Walter Skinner. He entered 
into conversation with the grooms, and let fall, in 
a loud voice, such a weight of opinions as must 
have crushed any intelligent mind to consider. And 
there about the stables he stayed; for the grooms 
took to him, and evidently regarded him as some 
new Solomon. 

The impatient Walter Skinner listened as long 
as he could, but seeing, at last, that Humphrey’s 
wisdom was from an unfailing supply, he went 
back to the inn, after beckoning one of the grooms 
to him and giving him a piece of money, in return 
for which, as he pompously instructed him, he was 
to keep an eye on Humphrey, and on no account 
to allow him to escape him; at the same time he 
threw out hints about the king and his wrath if 
such a thing should happen. 

The groom, who was himself a Saxon, and who 
hated all king’s men, listened respectfully, took 
the coin, said that he had but two eyes, but he 
would use them to see all that went on before him, 
and returned to the stables, where he at once told 
Humphrey what had passed. “ I have a hatred 
to the king and his men,” declared the groom. 

“ And what Saxon hath not? ” asked Humphrey. 

[ 76 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ I have lived forty years, and in all that time 
the Normans grow worse, and this John is worst 
of all.” 

“ Perchance thy master is oppressed by him,” 
ventured the groom. 

“ Perchance he is, and his lady and his son like- 
wise,” returned Humphrey. 

The groom looked at him. “ I ask thee to re- 
veal nothing,” he said significantly. “ I have but 
two eyes, and I must use them, as I said, to see 
all that goeth on before me. Do thou but ask 
Eric there to show thee the way out of the town 
before the curfew ring. He hateth king’s men 
worse even than I. My master will summon me 
to the house shortly, according to his custom. That 
will be the time for thee, for I can in no wise see 
what goeth on behind my back, nor did I promise 
to do so.” 

At once Humphrey betook himself to Eric, ex- 
plained matters so far as he dared, and received 
the groom’s ready promise to guide him out of 
the town, which he did within an hour, while W alter 
Skinner sat impatiently waiting for him to reenter 
the inn from the stables. Eric did more for him 
also; for he provided him with provender for the 

[ 77 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 

horses and abundant provisions for himself, Hugo, 
and the dog, receiving therefor a good price which 
he promised to transmit to his master. 

“ And now,” said Humphrey to himself, when 
he was well quit of the town, “ if the time cometh 
when Saxon as well as Norman hath preferment, 
my device shall be a ladder and a tree. And may 
the king’s man have a good supper at Ferrybridge 
and be long in the eating of it.” 

Straight to the thicket rode Humphrey at a 
good pace, but he found no Hugo there. “ Here 
is a snarl to be undone! ” he cried. “ The lad is 
too headstrong. Perchance he hath already run 
into the noose of the other king’s man. For who 
knoweth where he is? And I shall be held to 
answer for it. This cometh of a man being ser- 
vant to a boy and a stranger at that. I will away 
after him.” So saying, he rode to the south, giv- 
ing all habitations of men and walks of forest 
rangers a wide berth, and hoping sincerely that 
Hugo before him had done the same. “ For the 
lad,” said he, “ is in the main a good lad. And 
how can I face my lady if harm cometh to him? 
It is no blame to him that he hath not a knack 
at dreams to help him on his way.” 

[ 78 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


At the last word his horse shied; for out of the 
undergrowth at the side of the little glade through 
which he was riding fluttered a partridge, while, 
after it, floundering through the bushes with a 
great noise, came Fleetfoot. In vain Humphrey 
tried to call the dog from his prey. In a twinkling 
the unhappy bird was in the hound’s mouth and 
Fleetfoot was off again to the thicket to supple- 
ment his scant dinner with a bird of his own 
catching. 

“ Here be troubles enough! ” cried Humphrey. 
“ King’s men on our track, and now partridge 
feathers to set the keepers and rangers after us. 
Well, I will push through this underbrush to the 
right. Perchance Hugo rideth in the bridle-path 
beyond, since it was from that part the dog came. 
And he shall put the hound in leash. I am re- 
solved on it. I have no mind to have hand or foot 
lopped off that so a deerhound may have his fill 
of partridges.” 

With a frown he pushed through the underbrush. 
The sun was setting when he emerged into a path 
and, at a little distance, caught sight of Hugo 
jogging slowly along and looking warily about him. 
He dared not signal him by a whistle, so, putting 

[ 79 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


spurs to his loaded horse, he advanced as fast as 
he was able, and shortly after came up with the 
lad, his anger at Fleet foot’s trespass rather in- 
creased than abated, and, in consequence, with his 
manner peremptory. 

“ Into the thick here to the right,” he growled, 
laying his hand on the bridle of Hugo’s horse. 
“ The sun is now set, and we go no farther to- 
night. In this stretch robbers abound, and I have 
no mind to face three dangers when two be 
enough.” 

Hugo looked at him inquiringly. 

“Yea, by St. S within! ” went on the angry 
serving-man. “ King’s men and partridge feathers 
be enough without robbers.” And giving Hugo’s 
horse, which he had now headed toward the thicket, 
a slight cut on the flank with his whip, he drove 
Hugo before him, much to the boy’s indignation. 
“ Thou hast been drinking! ” he cried, turning in 
his saddle. “ Strike not my horse again.” 

They were barely screened from sight when 

Humphrey, his head turned over his shoulder, held 

up his hand warningly. A horse w r as coming on 

the gallop. A second elapsed, and then Walter 

Skinner went by. He had discovered Humphrey’s 

[ 80 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


flight a half-hour after Eric had led him out of 
the city, but the grooms had successfully delayed 
him half an hour longer. Then he had started in 
pursuit, and had gone thundering along at such 
a pace that he could hear nothing nor see any- 
thing that was not in full view. This new sight 
of danger at once pacified both Hugo and Hum- 
phrey. The boy forgot what he had been pleased 
to regard as the insubordination of his servant, and 
Humphrey forgot the anger he had felt against 
Fleetfoot and his master. 

As soon as they dared, they pushed cautiously 
farther into the thicket, and presently Humphrey 
dismounted and tied his horse. Here was no 
grassy spot within enclosing underbrush where 
comfort might be found. There was such a place 
not far off, but Humphrey would not go to it. 
With his knife he set to work clearing a place 
large enough for the tied horses to lie down in. 
Cutting every stick into the very ground, he laid 
the cut brush in an orderly heap, and thus made 
a bed for himself and Hugo. Then without a 
word he went out on foot and down to the bank 
of the Went, peeled a willow, and came back with 

a long strip of its bark. “ Thou wilt tie this to 
6 [ 81 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


the collar of thy dog,” he said. “ He hath been 
trespassing, and hath taken a partridge. Should 
the keeper discover it and us, thy hand or foot, 
or mine, must pay for it.” 

“ How knowest thou that Fleet foot did take a 
partridge?” asked Hugo, with disbelief in his 
tone. 

“ I did see him,” replied Humphrey. “ And 
noting whence he came, I did find thee, and none 
too soon.” 

There was a short silence. Then Hugo said: 
“A partridge is not much; and, as thou sayest, 
if thou hadst not seen Fleetfoot, thou hadst not 
found me in time; and so the spy would now 
have me in custody. Therefore Fleetfoot should 
not have too much blame.” 

“ Ay,” grumbled Humphrey. “ Thou art ready 
with thy excuses for thy dog.” 

“ He is all I have, Humphrey,” returned Hugo, 
quietly. “ But I promise thee he shall be put in 
leash on the morrow if he cometh.” And he lis- 
tened anxiously for some sound of his dog’s ap- 
proach. But he heard none. 

And now Humphrey’s good-nature was quite re- 
stored, so that he said: “ Think no more of the 

[ 82 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


hound to-night. He hath begun on a partridge. 
May he not end on a deer; and, if he doth, may 
the keeper set its loss down to these prowling 
robber bands. It is well with us thus far.” 

By this time the horses were fed and supper 
was over, all having been accomplished in dark- 
ness, and Humphrey lay down to sleep. 


CHAPTER VI 


T HE part of Yorkshire which they had been 
traversing abounded in rivers. The Wharf e 
and the Aire, the first of which joins the Ouse 
eight miles south, and the second eighteen miles 
southeast of York, they had already crossed. They 
were now near the Went, and here, as Hugo dis- 
covered the next morning, it was Humphrey’s de- 
cision to stay a day or two. 

“I go no further without a dream,” he declared. 
“ Last night I slept too sound to have one. And 
moreover I wish not to fall in with these gallop- 
ing king’s men. Let them ride up and down till 
they think us securely hid away in some religious 
house, since they find us not in the wood. So 
shall we go the safer on our way to Doncaster.” 

Hugo had thought much the evening before, and 
he had resolved to dispute Humphrey in future 
no more than was necessary. For he now saw 
that, though he was but a serving-man, Humphrey 
knew more of Yorkshire woods than his master. 

[ 84 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


He therefore made no objection when Humphrey 
announced his decision, much to the serving-man’s 
surprise, for he had expected opposition. Find- 
ing none, he enlarged his air of importance, and 
bade Hugo stay where he was while he took the 
horses down to the stream for water. 

Hugo, putting a strong restraint on himself, 
obeyed, and was rewarded on the serving-man’s 
return with the promise that, as soon as the dog 
came in and was tied, he might venture forth with 
Humphrey to explore the region. 

“ Thou must know,” remarked Humphrey, “ that 
we be on the high bank. On the other side of the 
valley sloping coppices abound, and therein can 
I show thee many badger holes. Hast ever seen 
a badger hunt? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Hugo. 

“ I was but twenty years old,” continued Hum- 
phrey, “ when first I came through these woods, and 
on the bank across the valley from this point I 
did see a badger hunt. Three men and two dogs 
did I see, and they five did at length dig out one 
badger. The old badger was inside the hole 
taking his sleep, for it was ten o’clock in the 
morning. And a badger not only sleepeth all day 

[ 85 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


in summer, but day and night in winter. Thou 
knowest that?” 

“Yea,” replied Hugo. And added that at his 
uncle’s priory he had occasionally eaten badger 
meat, which was very good. 

“ Cured like ham, was it? ” inquired Humphrey. 

“ Yea,” responded Hugo. 

Humphrey nodded his head approvingly. “ A 
priest,” he said, “for knowing and having good 
eating.” 

The two sat silent a few moments waiting for 
Fleet foot, who did not come, and then Humphrey 
continued: “ The badger hath a thick skin. He 
goeth into a wasp’s nest or a bees’ nest, and the 
whole swarm may sting him and he feeleth it 
not.” 

“ What doth the badger in wasps’ nests and bees’ 
nests?” inquired Hugo. 

“ Why, he will eat up their grubs. The eggs 

make footless grubs, and these the badger eateth. 

My grandsire went a journey through this wood 

once on a moonlight night. He rode slowly along, 

and at a certain place was a bees’ nest beside the 

path, and there, full in the moonlight, was a badger 

rooting out the nest. Out swarmed the bees, and 

[ 86 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


several did sting the horse of my grandsire at the 
moment when he had taken good aim at the badger 
with his stick. The horse bolted, and my grand- 
sire found himself lying in the path with his neck 
all but broken, and the bees taking vengeance on 
him for the trespass of the badger. He hath had 
no liking to bees or badgers since that day.” 

“ He still liveth, then? ” asked Hugo. 

“ Ay,” returned Humphrey, much pleased at the 
question. “ Hale and hearty he is, and ninety-six 
years of age.” 

By common consent both now paused to listen 
for Fleet foot. Hearing nothing Humphrey con- 
tinued, “ Didst ever see a tame badger? ” 

“ Nay,” was the reply. 

“ A badger becometh as tame as a dog, if he 
be taken young. Report hath it that there is great 
sport in London at the public houses baiting the 
badger. I know not how it may be.” 

And now Fleetfoot came. Not joyfully, but 
slinking, for he knew he bad been doing wrong. 
Three partridges, a fox, and a badger he had slain 
since Humphrey had seen him, and he wore a 
guilty look. 

“ Thou wilt do no more than tie him with the 

[ 87 ] 


A BOY’S HIDE 


willow thong,” observed Humphrey, eyeing Fleet- 
foot with disfavor. 44 Were he mine, I should beat 
him. The king maketh nothing of lopping off a 
man’s hand or foot for such a trespass, or even 
putting out of his eyes. And should the keepers 
discover what he hath done, it were all the same 
as if we had done it.” 

44 Nay, Humphrey,” said Hugo, smoothing the 
dog’s head. 4 4 Perchance he hath taken no more 
than the partridge thou sawest.” 

For answer Humphrey struck lightly the dog’s 
rounded-out side. 44 Tell me not,” he said, 44 that 
one partridge hath such a filling power. Else 
would I feed only on partridges. Moreover, he is 
a knowing dog, and see how he slinketh. He 
would not be that cast down for one partridge, 
I warrant thee.” 

44 It may be thou art right,” replied Hugo, as 
he tied up Fleetfoot. 

44 Yea, that I may be,” returned Humphrey, 
importantly. 44 A man that hath dreams of going 
up a ladder and climbing a tree in the same night 
is most likely to be right when it cometh to meas- 
uring up the trespasses of a straying deerhound. 

For why should a man be advanced to preferment 

[ 88 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


and honor except that he hath merit? And to 
dream of going up a ladder and climbing a tree 
is sure warrant that he hath it. And now fare 
we forth to see this Brockadale.” 

Hugo having finished tying Fleetfoot securely 
with a tether so short that he could not gnaw 
through it, followed Humphrey, and the dog at- 
tempted to follow Hugo, much to Humphrey’s 
satisfaction. “ Ay, thou wouldst follow, wouldst 
thou?” he said. “Bide where thou art with the 
horses, and think on thy evil deeds.” Then turn- 
ing to the boy he added, “ If thou wilt not beat 
him, Hugo, my chiding may do him some good.” 

It was a most beautiful little valley that the 
boy saw when he stood on the edge of a hill on 
its northern side and gazed down into it, while 
Humphrey stood by pointing out its features with 
the air of a proprietor. Green and lovely it 
stretched away to the southeast some two miles, 
as Humphrey told him. Through it flowed the 
Went, bending and turning, its banks lined with 
osiers and willows. Wooded hills were the north- 
ern, and sloping coppices the southern boundary 
of the vale. 

The two had not ventured out into the open. 

[ 89 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


They were still in the shelter of the trees. “ The 
Normans rule, and honest men must skulk and 
hide,” observed Humphrey, with some bitterness. 

“ Lord De Aldithely is a Norman,” remarked 
Hugo. “ So also am I.” 

“ Ay,” rejoined Humphrey, “ but all Normans 
are not alike bad. Thou art not the king, more- 
over, nor is my lord, who is an honest man and 
standeth bravely by the people, and is opposed to 
murder and robbery. Therefore is he fled, and 
therefore is our young lord Josceline in danger, 
and therefore are we skulking and hiding and lead- 
ing the king’s men this chase. The times be evil; 
and who knoweth what shall amend them? ” 

Hugo did not reply. His eye had caught sight 
of the flash of sunlight on steel down the valley, 
and he pointed it out to Humphrey. 

“Up! up!” cried Humphrey. “Up into yon 
spreading oak at the edge of the vale. There shall 
we be concealed, and yet see all.” 

“ They come from toward Doncaster, do they 
not? ” asked Hugo when they were safely out of 
sight among the branches. 

“ Ay,” answered Humphrey. “Nor was it for 
naught that I did sleep too sound to dream last 

[ 90 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


night, else might we have been on the way to Don- 
caster, and so, perchance, have met them.” 

The party drew nearer, and soon the keen eyes 
of Humphrey and Hugo resolved them into three 
men-at-arms led by Walter Skinner. 

“ Three soldiers and a king’s man to take a boy 
and a man!” laughed Humphrey. “ It must be 
that they have a good opinion of our bravery.” 

“ Or of thy cunning,” said Hugo, to whom 
Humphrey had a short while before revealed all 
that had befallen him in Ferrybridge. 

“ Oh, ay,” answered Humphrey, complacently. 
“ I have my share, no doubt. A man doth not live 
forty years with treachery on all sides of him and 
learn nothing. My head had been off my shoul- 
ders ere this, had not some measure of cunning 
done its part to keep it on. They will beat up the 
whole forest hereabout for us, I doubt not. If I 
get a good dream to-night, we go on to-morrow.” 

Hugo smiled. He thought it strange that a man 

so sensible, in many respects, as Humphrey should 

pin such faith to dreams. So he said teasingly: 

“ How if thou get not the dream to-night, nor 

yet to-morrow night? Do we bide here until the 

dream come, if that be next Michaelmas? ” 

[ 91 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

« 

The serving-man seemed puzzled. Then he an- 
swered: “ Nay, to be sure. Then would the sum- 
mer be done; and, moreover, I never went so long 
without the right dream in my life.” 

Nearer and nearer drew the horsemen until, in 
the vale just opposite and below Hugo and Hum- 
phrey, they dismounted. “ Here do we stop,” said 
Walter Skinner. “ I warrant you they be here- 
abouts, else have the fat priests lied when they 
denied they were in abbey and priory.” 

“ Ay,” answered one of the men-at-arms. “ They 
be hereabouts, no doubt, if they be not farther to 
the east, when thy fellow will catch them if we miss 
them. I marvel thou hast not come up with them 
before now. Thou sayest this is the third day of 
their flight? ” 

This seeming to reflect on the ability of the 
pompous little Walter Skinner, he frowned. And 
drawing himself up importantly he said, “ The 
young lord hath to his servant a Saxon who know- 
eth well these parts.” 

“ Some deer-stealer, without doubt,” observed the 
man-at-arms. 

“ And he goeth not straight forward,” continued 
Walter Skinner, “ else had I met him. But he 

[ 92 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


creepeth here, and hideth there, and goeth in re- 
tired paths.” 

“And all to balk thee!” said the big man-at- 
arms, regarding with scarce concealed contempt 
the little strutting spy. 

There was that in the manner of the man-at- 
arms that nettled Walter Skinner, so that he be- 
came more pompous than before and, resolved to 
show the soldier how high he stood in the king’s 
counsel, he said haughtily: “ Why, it were best 
he balk me, if he knew what will come to his 
young master when I find him. King John, as 
thou know r est, hath a special hatred toward his 
father, Lord De Aldithely.” 

“ De Aldithely, sayest thou? ” interrupted the 
man-at-arms. 

“ Ay, and he is resolved the son shall not live, 
no more than his own nephew Arthur.” 

“And he will put him to death?” asked the 
man-at-arms. 

“ Why, not speedily,” answered Walter Skinner, 
importantly, “ but cat and mouse fashion, by which 
he will be the longer dying, and his father the more 
tormented. He will speedily give orders also to 
raze his castle as a nest of traitors.” 

[ 93 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Whence hadst thou this? ” demanded the man- 
at-arms. 

Walter Skinner stood off and looked at him. 
Then, with an air of great mystery, he said: “ It 
is whispered about. I may not say more. It 
become th me not.” 

The man-at-arms now rose from the ground 
where he had thrown himself and mounted his 
horse. “ I seek not the young lord,” he said. “ I 
betray no mouse to the cat, least of all the son 
of the brave De Aldithely. I will back to my 
own master from whom thou didst borrow me. I 
will say thou needest me not and hast bid me re- 
turn. When thou art tired of thy life, say thou 
otherwise.” And he looked meaningly at him. 

“ I go with thee,” said the second man-at-arms, 
springing from the ground. 

“ And I also! ” exclaimed the third. 

In vain Walter Skinner tried to restrain them. 
They clattered off down the valley whence they 
had come, and were soon out of sight on their way 
to Doncaster. 

The sound carried well here; the voices of the 
men were loud; and Hugo and Humphrey, whose 
ears were keen, heard with consternation all that 

[ 94 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


passed. “ I fear it meaneth death to thee also if 
thou be caught,” said Humphrey. “ For it is a 
serious thing to dupe a man of the king’s rage. 
This calleth for dreams, and that right speedily, 
if we are not to fall into his hands.” 

The disappointed Walter Skinner made no at- 
tempt to depart. “ Here will I stay a while,” he 
said, “ and berate the folly that did tell them the 
purpose of the king and the name of the young 
lord. I did think to raise myself in authority over 
them by showing that I did know the king’s coun- 
sel, and, in so doing, I did forget that for mur- 
dering of Arthur all men hate him, and few will 
help him to his will upon others.” Moodily he 
threw himself upon the grass, having staked his 
horse, and soon left off berating himself by fall- 
ing into a sound sleep. The sun reached the 
meridian, and he still slept. It came to be mid- 
afternoon and still he moved not, for he had ridden 
hard and had been deprived of his rest the night 
before. His tethered horse at last whinnied softly 
and then loudly. And, to the dismay of Hugo 
and Humphrey, he was answered by their own 
horses in the thicket. But still the king’s man 
moved not. 


[ 95 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Would that I knew certainly that he sleepeth,” 
said Humphrey, anxiously. “For then we might 
come down and escape.” 

“ Nay, nay,” objected Hugo, earnestly. “ Seest 
thou not how a little sound goeth far here? The 
rustling of the leaves and rattling of the boughs 
as we descend might awake him.” 

Humphrey looked at him. “ Ay, poor mouse! ” 
he said. “ Mayhap thou art right.” 

And now Walter Skinner stirred in his slumber. 
Once more his horse whinnied loudly. Once more 
the horses in the thicket answered; and the spy, 
broad awake, sprang to his feet. “ Aha, Fortune! ” 
he cried, “ thou art with me.” 

“ Nevertheless,” observed Humphrey, softly, “ if 
thou hast not dreamed of going up a ladder and 
climbing a tree, all may not go so well with thee 
as thou thinkest.” 

Leaving his horse, the spy climbed the wooded 
hill, at the top of which he paused just under the 
oak in which Hugo and Humphrey were concealed. 
The horses whinnied no more, though he waited 
a few moments hoping to hear them. “ I will 
on,” he cried impatiently. “ ’T was from this di- 
rection the answer came.” And away he hurried 

[ 96 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


on foot, for he imagined that those he sought 
were hidden near at hand, and waiting for the 
night to come ere they resumed their journey. He 
knew that he alone could not capture them, but 
if he could get on their trail and dog them unseen 
till he could get help he would be sure of them. 

As soon as the spy was out of sight Humphrey 
began to descend the tree. 

“ Whither goest thou? ” asked Hugo. 

“ Thou shalt see,” returned Humphrey. 

With speed he ran down the hill, breaking a 
switch of birch as he ran. He hastened to Walter 
Skinner’s horse, cut him loose from his tether, and 
struck him sharply with the birch rod. Away 
galloped the horse down the valley, while Hum- 
phrey hastened back to his place in the tree. 
“ Fortune may be with him,” he said to Hugo, 
“ but his horse is not. Mayhap I need not an- 
other dream, for, by the one I had, I think we 
have got the better of him. Moreover, there will 
be no more whinnying for our horses to answer.” 


7 


[ 97 ] 


CHAPTER VII 


T ILL the set of sun and the dusk of the 
evening the spy pursued the search, now 
stumbling over a tree root, now catching his foot 
in a straggling vine, and every now and then 
sorely struck in the face by the underbrush through 
which he pushed his way. Rut, although he was 
once very near the concealed horses and hound, he 
found nothing to reward him. The return to the 
little vale was even more tiresome than the jour- 
ney from it had been. No moon would shine for 
an hour, and it was quite dark when he once more 
reached the oak in which Hugo and Humphrey 
had stayed all day, but from which they had a few 
moments before descended. 

In climbing the tree, after setting Walter Skin- 
ner’s horse loose, Humphrey had noticed a hollow 
in one of the lower branches. “ Perchance,” he 
said, “ a hedgehog may lodge therein. Knowest 
thou the ways of hedgehogs?” 

“ Nay,” returned Hugo, indifferently. 

[ 98 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ The lad hath lost heart,” said Humphrey to 
himself, “ and all because of the words of this little 
snipe of a king’s man and the slowness of the 
journey. I will not seem to see it.” Then he 
continued as if Hugo had displayed the greatest 
interest: “I will tell thee, then, that hedgehogs 
have many ways. I warrant thee this king’s man 
knoweth naught of them, any more than he knoweth 
the wood. Had he been some men, we had been 
caught ere now. I fear him not overmuch. For 
do but see how he is puffed up with undue pride 
and importance. And let me tell thee that undue 
pride and importance and good sense dwell not 
in the same skull. We shall therefore have the 
better of him.” 

Hugo made no reply, and Humphrey continued 
cheerfully: “A hedgehog will find a hollow in a 
tree, and there he will bide, sleeping all day. At 
night he will come forth. But first he must reach 
the ground. And this he will do by rolling into 
a ball and dropping on the ends of his spines. If 
the ground is beneath him, no harm is done. If 
this king’s man should be beneath him, I think not 
that he would cry out that Fortune was with him 
when the spines of the hedgehog stuck into him.” 

[ 99 ] 

) d 

? y > 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ And how would the king’s man be beneath 
him? ” asked Hugo, dully. 

“If the hedgehog be in the hollow of that low 
branch,” answered Humphrey, “ and if the king’s 
man should stand under at such time as the hedge- 
hog was ready to drop, then he would be beneath 
him.” 

“ Yea,” observed Hugo. “ Many things might 
come to pass, if thou couldst make all the plans.” 

Humphrey did not hear the sarcasm in Hugo’s 
tones. He heard only what he was pleased to take 
as a compliment to his own abilities. “ Why, I 
believe thou art right,” he answered. “ Were I 
to make the plans, some that are now at the top 
would be at the bottom. Thou hast well said. 
But come. It grows dark. Let us go down ere the 
king’s man come back on his way to the vale.” 

Slowly they made their way down. “ This 
perching on trees all day is fit to make an old 
man of a boy,” said Humphrey, as he stepped 
clumsily about on his half -numbed feet. 

“ Sh! ” said Hugo. 

Humphrey instantly stood still in the darkness 
and listened. Weary and slow steps were ap- 
proaching. They came nearer, and directly under 

[ 100 ] 

V t t 
l K 

( < < 


A BOY’S RIDE 


the oak they ceased, for the spy, his pompous 
manner quite gone, had stopped to rest -a little. 
And now a rustling in the branches above was 
heard. Eagerly the spy looked up and strained his 
eyes to see. “Josceline! son of Lord De Aldi- 
thely!” he called, “I arrest thee in the king’s 
name. Thou darest not oppose me. Yield thyself, 
and come down!” 

And just then the hedgehog which Humphrey 
had surmised might be in the hollow, moved a little 
farther along on the branch, rustling the leaves as 
he did so. In the darkness the face of the spy 
was still turned upward. He had forgotten that 
he was alone and unaided. And he thought only 
of getting hold of the boy he sought. 

“ Come down! ” he repeated. “ Come down, I 
say! Make no dallying!” 

And then the hedgehog rolled himself into a ball 
and came down plump into the face of Walter 
Skinner. 

“Ugh! what have we here? ” sputtered the spy, 
starting back. 

Hugo and Humphrey did not wait for him to 

discover, but stepping softly away they went to 

the thicket, where the hungry animals gave them 

[ 101 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


a warm welcome, and where they thoroughly en- 
joyed the first meal they had had since morning. 
Their supper eaten, Humphrey untied horses and 
hound, to lead them to water. 

“ Thou wilt be caught,” objected Hugo, ner- 
vously. 

“ Not I,” returned Humphrey, easily. “ I fear 
not the spy to-night. If he heareth aught, he will 
think another hedgehog about to drop upon him. 
Come thou with me and see.” 

Hugo obediently rose from the couch of boughs 
where he had thrown himself, and took the thong 
of willow from Humphrey’s hand to lead Fleetfoot. 
The serving-man was right. So far as Walter 
Skinner was concerned they had no more to fear 
that night. His face was lacerated; and by the 
time Hugo and Humphrey started from the thicket 
he had discovered the loss of his horse. It had 
been better for him if his drinking-horn, from 
which he now took copious draughts, had been lost 
also. 

“ The kind of fortune that is with him, I should 
not wish to be with me,” observed Humphrey, when 
they had returned safely to the thicket. “ I will 

now to sleep and see what sort of a dream cometh.” 

[ 102 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Much cheered in spirit, Hugo also lay down to 
sleep. His courage came back, and he felt that 
let the journey take as long as it would he was 
equal to it. 

The moon had now risen, and by its light Richard 
Wood, the other spy, and his borrowed men-at- 
arms came riding through one of the glades of the 
forest southward to the vale. Richard Wood had 
not the overweening vanity of Walter Skinner; 
he had not taken his borrowed men-at-arms into 
his confidence concerning the king’s plans in order 
to make it appear that he stood high in counsel; 
neither had he revealed the name of the lad they 
sought. The men-at-arms had, therefore, all three 
remained with him, and were as eager as he on 
the chase. They were pushing on now to the vale 
to camp for the night, because they could find 
there both grass and water. And, in the same 
spot where Walter Skinner had slept before, they 
came upon a figure reclining in full sight in the 
moonlight. 

“ There lieth one of them,” said a man-at-arms, 
“ but I see not the other.” 

“ Thou mayest be sure the other is not far off,” 
observed the second. 


[ 103 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Thou shalt see how quickly I will awake him 
out of sleep,” cried the third, as he spurred his 
horse toward him and pricked him sharply with 
the point of his lance. 

“ Ugh! ” grunted the half-drunken W alter Skin- 
ner. “ But I have had enough of hedgehogs for 
one night.” And he sat up sleepily. 

“And is it thou, Walter Skinner?” exclaimed 
Richard Wood. 

“Why, who should it be?” answered Walter 
Skinner, peevishly. 

“ Thou art a brave pursuer! ” said Richard Wood. 
“Where be thy men-at-arms? and where is thy 
horse? ” 

“ My men-at-arms are returned to their master,” 
replied Walter Skinner, while those of Richard 
Wood drew near to learn the whereabouts of their 
companions. “ As for my horse, I wot not what 
is become of him.” 

“ And wherefore did thy men-at-arms play thee 
false?” demanded Richard Wood. 

“Softly!” replied Walter Skinner, his small, 
cracked voice more cracked than usual. “ Ask me 
not so many questions if thou wouldst not see me 
dead before thee.” 


[ 104 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Richard Wood regarded him sternly. “ Thou 
must be moonstruck,” he said at length. “ When 
ever heard any one of a man dying of the ques- 
tions asked of him? ” 

“ Thou mistakest my meaning,” returned Walter 
Skinner, a trace of his pomposity returning. 
“ Thou askest me questions. If I answer thee 
false, I lie. If I answer thee true, I die. And 
truly, death were not much worse than this lacer- 
ated face of mine.” 

“Why, how now!” demanded Richard Wood. 
“ How earnest thy face lacerated? ” 

“ One Master Hedgehog of this forest hath paid 
me his attentions too closely.” 

For a moment Richard Wood was silent. Then 
he said: “Answer me truly. It behooveth me to 
know the truth in this matter. Why did thy men- 
at-arms leave thee?” 

“ I did but let fall the king’s purpose toward 
the young lord, and name his father, De Aldithely, 
and they fell off from me as I had been myself 
a murderer. Bade me uphold their lying speech 
that I had no need of their services on pain of 
death, and so left me.” 

And now one of the men-at-arms spoke. “We 

[ 105 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


be not knaves,” he said. “ We had not thought 
to lead the youth to death, but to honorable cap- 
tivity for a brief while. Nor did we know the 
lad ye seek was son to De Aldithely. Wherefore 
we also leave ye, and if ye say why, your lives 
shall answer for it. We have no mind to be marks 
for the king’s vengeance. He that would crush 
the Archdeacon of Norwich with a cope of lead 
will have no mercy on a man-at-arms that thwarted 
him. Wherefore, say why we left ye, if ye think 
best.” And, riding a little way off, all three 
encamped by themselves for the night. 

“ It seemeth that the best way to earn hatred 
and contempt is to serve this King John,” remarked 
Richard Wood, thoughtfully. 

“ Ay, and the attention of hedgehogs also,” re- 
turned Walter Skinner, thickly. “And the loss 
of horse and food, and the loss of the quarry also, 
if we strike not the trail again. And though we 
have not the service of the men-at-arms, be sure 
we shall pay for it as if we had it to their master. 
I would I had a troop of mercenaries to rent out. 
It were easier than such scouring of the country 
as this. Moreover we do exceed our office. The 

king said not to me, ‘ Walter Skinner, scour the 

[ 106 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


country.’ Nay, the king said naught to me on 
the matter. ’T was his favorite, Sir Thomas De 
Lany, that bade me watch the castle from the tree; 
and there might I be now in comfort, if this hare- 
brained youth had not run away. He should have 
stayed at the castle till the coming of Robert 
Sadler and the troop. My face had not been thus 
lacerated had the youth known his duty and 
done it.” 

“Why, how makest thou all this?” demanded 
Richard Wood, contemptuously. “The king careth 
not whose hand delivereth the youth, so that he 
be delivered. That we have not already caught 
him is the fault of thyself alone. Hadst thou but 
held thy tongue, we had had with us to-night six 
men-at-arms, and had, erelong, run down the game. 
In the morning I go to Hubert le Falconer and hire 
from him six more — three for thee, and three for 
me. Then do thou be silent as to the king’s pur- 
pose, and this mischief of thy making may be re- 
paired. Thou mayest look as if thou wert bursting 
with wisdom, if it please thee, but see that thou 
give no enlightening word to thy followers.” 

“ Ay, thou mayest lay the burden of all mis- 
haps on me,” returned Walter Skinner, pettishly. 

[ 107 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ But I promise not that I will speak no word, if 
it seemeth to me best to speak. It is not every 
one in the king’s employ. Not every one is out 
scouring the country for a lord’s son. And if one 
may not speak of his honors, why hath he them? ” 
“ Honors! ” exclaimed Richard Wood, with con- 
tempt. “ There be few would call such work as 
thine an honor. To skulk, to spy, to trap another 
to his destruction, why, that is what most call 
knaves’ work, and he who doth it is despised. Yea, 
even though he do it for a king.” 

“ Thy loss doth set but sourly on thy stomach, 
Richard Wood,” said Walter Skinner, stubbornly. 
“ It is an honor to serve the king. Ay, even 
though he be a bad one like this. And, I say, if 
one is not to speak of honors, why hath he them? ” 
“ For other people to see, varlet. What others 
see of thy honors , as thou callest them, they can 
mayhap endure. But when thou pratest of thy 
honors, thou dost but enrage them. Wilt thou 
give me thy word to be silent? ” 

“ Nay, that will I not,” retorted Walter Skin- 
ner. “ I be as good a man as thou, and not a 
bear in leading. When I will to speak, I speak; 

whether it be of the king’s matters or my own.” 

[ 108 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Thou hast said,” returned Richard Wood, ris- 
ing. “ In the morning I hire three men-at-arms 
from Hubert le Falconer for myself. Pursue thou 
the chase as seemeth thee best. We hunt no more 
in company.” 

With the first morning light the men-at-arms 
mounted their horses and rode toward Doncaster, 
Richard Wood rode north to seek his needed men- 
at-arms from Hubert le Falconer, and only Walter 
Skinner was left horseless and breakfastless in the 
vale. He had no mind to remain there in that 
condition, and so betook himself to the nearest 
priory, confident that, in the king’s name, he could 
there procure both food and a horse, and perhaps 
a leech to ease his wounded face. 

Hugo and Humphrey were also early astir, the 
serving-man performing his morning tasks with 
such a particularly cheerful air that Hugo smiled 
and inquired, “ Hadst thou a dream last night? ” 

4 4 Ay,” answered Humphrey, in triumph. “ I 
say not with that little spy, ‘ Aha, F ortune ! thou 
art with me,’ and then go out to meet a hedgehog. 
But this I say, that I did dream of bees and of 
following them, which betokeneth gain or profit. 
And therefore go we not toward Doncaster.” 

[ 109 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Why not toward Doncaster down this Brocka- 
dale?” asked Hugo. 

“ The vale is well enough,” replied Humphrey, 
“ but it extendeth only two miles after all. We 
must make haste to-day. I do remember that two 
spies did pursue us at the beginning. It may be 
that the other hath neither lost his horse nor met 
a hedgehog to discourage him. And, moreover, 
what is to hinder him from having three men-at- 
arms to his help like his fellow? Nay, Hugo, we 
go not through the vale, but make we what haste 
we may through short cuts and little used paths.” 

“And whither do we go?” asked Hugo. 

“ I will tell thee that we seek the marshy Isle 
of Axholme to the east of the river Don. There 
will be room therein for us to hide away, and there 
no king’s men will look for us moreover.” 

“Why?” asked Hugo. 

“ Why, lad? ” repeated Humphrey. “ Why, be- 
cause they will not. Will a king’s man trust him- 
self in such a boggy place? Nay. Moreover, I 
fell in with this one that hath so lately followed 
us at Ferrybridge, which is a sure sign that we 
should meet the other at Doncaster.” 

“ But — ” began Hugo. 

[HO] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ I tell thee,” interrupted Humphrey, “ I did 
dream of bees and of following them. We go 
straight to this Isle of Axholme. Vex me no 
more.” 

Hugo opened his mouth to remonstrate still 
further, but, happening to remember his determi- 
nation not to oppose Humphrey except through 
necessity, he closed it again. Seeing which, Hum- 
phrey regarded him approvingly, and even went 
to the length of expressing his approbation in 
words. 

“ Thou art learning to keep thyself under,” he 
said. “ Thou hast but just opened thy mouth to 
speak and shut it again with thy words unsaid. 
When one hath no knack at dreams to help him 
on, the best thing for him is the power to shut 
his mouth. An open mouth maketh naught but 
trouble. Thou didst wish to see more of the vale, 
and so thou shalt. Thou shalt see so much of it 
as thou canst while the horses and hound drink 
their fill before starting.” 


[in] 


CHAPTER VIII 


T HE Isle of Axholme, to which Humphrey 
was determined to go, was a marshy tract 
of ground in the northwest part of what is now 
Lincolnshire, and its eastern boundary was the 
Trent River. It was some eighteen miles long 
from north to south, and some five miles wide 
from east to west. On its north side was the 
w T ide mouth of the Ouse; the river Idle was south 
of it, and west of it w r as the Don. In the time 
of the Romans there had been a forest here which 
they had cut down, and the low, level land after- 
ward became a marsh. At this time few trees 
were to be found there. But there were thickets 
of underbrush and patches of rank grass, as well 
as pools and boggy places; and Humphrey was 
right in thinking the place comparatively safe 
from pursuit. Especially so as the pursuers would 
naturally think that the young lord Josceline would 
push on as rapidly as possible, that he might get 

across to France to join his father. 

[1123 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ I go no more where the crowd goeth,” declared 
Humphrey, when they were on their way. “ How 
many, thinkest thou, of all that be abroad in these 
parts pass through Doncaster? Why, near all. 
We need not to show ourselves further to draw 
pursuit. This is now the fourth day since we set 
out, and my lady and J osceline must be well along 
in their journey. I would I knew the doings of 
William Lorimer at the castle. He is a brave 
man and a true, though he would never tell me his 
plans that he might take my counsel. He ever 
made naught of dreams and spake lightly of omens. 
I hope he may not fare the worse for it.” 

Hugo made no reply. He, too, was wondering 
about how things were going at the castle, but he 
kept his thoughts to himself. 

“ Now I will tell thee,” said Humphrey, paus- 
ing and turning in his saddle, “ when thou seest 
me draw rein and hold up my hand, do thou stop 
instantly. There be many robbers in this wood, 
and we have them to fear as well as king’s men. 
And hold Fleetfoot fast. Let him not escape 
thee.” 

Hugo promised to obey in these particulars, and 
Humphrey, for a short distance, put his horse to 

8 [ 113 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

the trot with Hugo following close behind him. 
All that day they turned and wound through the 
forest, going fast where they dared, and at other 
times creeping silently along. To Hugo it seemed 
they must be lost; but, when darkness fell, they 
had reached the edge of the Isle of Axholme, and, 
putting the horses through the Don, were safe in 
its marshy wastes. 

“ Here be no keepers and rangers,” said Hum- 
phrey, exultingly. “ And here may we kill and eat 
what we choose, while Fleetfoot may hunt for him- 
self. We stir not till the moon rise, and then we 
seek a place to sleep,” he concluded, patting the 
wet coat of the horse he rode. 

Hugo said nothing. He did not know it, but 
he was nervous. All day he had been on the alert, 
and now to stay perfectly still in this strange, 
silent place, not daring to stir in the darkness lest 
he splash into some pool, or mire in a bog; with 
his eyes attempting to see, when it was too dark to 
see anything but the glow-worms in the grass and 
the will-o’-the-wisp, was an added strain. 

Two hours went by, and the curtain of darkness 
began to lift. The moonlight made visible a fringe 
of small trees and the shine of the water on whose 

[ 114 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


bank they grew. The breeze rose and sighed and 
whistled through rush and reed. An owl hooted, 
and then Humphrey, who had been nodding on his 
horse’s back, suddenly became very wide awake. 

“ Hast been here before, Hugo? ” he cried 
cheerily. 

“ Nay,” answered the boy, listlessly. 

“No more have I,” returned Humphrey. “But 
what of that ? A man who hath proper dreams may 
be at home in all places. I will now seek out our 
resting-place, and do thou and Fleetfoot follow 
me.” So saying, he chirruped to his patient horse 
and led the way carefully; for, however much 
Humphrey imagined he depended on dreams, he 
generally exercised as good judgment and care as 
he was able. To-night weary Hugo had for- 
gotten that Humphrey was his servant, and, as 
such, bound to obey him. He felt himself nothing 
but a tired and homesick boy, and was glad him- 
self to obey the faithful Saxon, while he thought 
regretfully of his uncle the prior, Lady De Al- 
dithely, Josceline, and the valiant William 
Lorimer. 

It was not Humphrey’s intention to go farther 
that night than absolutely necessary; and a little 

[ 115 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 

later he dismounted and stamped his feet with 
satisfaction. “ Here be solid ground enough and 
to spare for us and the horses and hound,” he 
said, “ and here will we rest.” 

A lone, scrubby tree was at hand, and to that 
Humphrey made fast the horses and dog. “No 
fire to-night. Thy cloak must be thy protection 
from the damp,” he said. “ But the swamp is 
not so damp as the king’s dungeon, nor so dismal. 
So let us eat and sleep.” 

Hugo said nothing. He ate a morsel with a 
swelling heart, and then, in silence, lay down. 
He was beginning to find leading evil men a 
merry chase a rather unpleasant business. 

In the moonlight Humphrey looked at him. 
“ He is a good lad,” he thought, “ and seemeth no 
more to me like a stranger. I begin to see that he 
seemed no stranger to my lady neither. My lord 
will make him his page, no doubt, if he getteth 
safely over to France. France is a good country 
when a bad king ruleth at home.” Then faithful 
Humphrey, the animals fed, himself lay down to 
sleep. 

It was late the next morning when Hugo 

awoke. Humphrey had been stirring two hours; 

[ 116 ] 





A BOY’S RIDE 


and the first thing the boy’s eyes rested upon was 
a little fire made of bits of punky wood collected 
by Humphrey; and spitted above the coals were 
two small birds roasting. 

“Ay, lad!” cried Humphrey. “Open thine 
eyes now, and we will to breakfast presently. 
What sayest thou to a peewit each? Is that not 
better than brawn? ” 

Hugo smiled and arose at once. His despond- 
ency of the night before was gone, together with 
his fatigue, and he looked about him with interest. 
To the left were reeds some twelve feet tall which 
fringed a pool ; to the right, thick sedge that fringed 
another; and they seemed to be on a sort of tiny, 
grassy isle, though the water which divided them 
from the next bit of solid earth could, in some 

i 

places, be stepped across. The sun shone with 
agreeable warmth. There were frequent whirrs of 
wings in the air as small flocks of game birds rose 
from the water and sedge near by. 

“ This is not the wood nor is it Brockadale; but 
here one may breathe a little without having his 
eyes looking on all sides for an enemy,” said 
Humphrey, with satisfaction. “ It is the turn of 
the peewits to look out. Knowest thou the 
peewit? ” 


D 17] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ On the table only,” answered Hugo, pleasantly. 

“ Ay,” observed Humphrey. “ Thine uncle, the 
prior, hath many a fat feast in the priory, I war- 
rant thee. But here thou shalt see the peewit at 
home. Had we but come in April, we had had 
some eggs as well as birds to eat.” 

Humphrey had made a fresh meal cake in the 
embers, and the two — boy and serving-man — 
now sat devouring birds and cake with great 
appetites. 

“ Thou knowest the pigeon? ” asked Humphrey. 

“ Yea,” replied Hugo. 

“ The peewit is the size of a pigeon.” 

“ So I should guess,” remarked Hugo. 

“ There be those that call it the lapwing,” pur- 
sued Humphrey. 

“ My uncle, the prior, is of the number,” smiled 
Hugo. 

“ Ay, priests ever have abundance of names for 
everything. It cometh, no doubt, from knowing 
Latin and other outlandish gibberish.” 

Hugo smiled indulgently. His feeling toward 

Humphrey had, during the last day, undergone 

a complete change. And, though he was but a 

Saxon serving-man, the heart of the boy had now 

[ 118 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


an affection for him. Humphrey was quick to 
detect it, and he too smiled. 

“ Had the peewit short legs like the pigeon,” 
he continued, “ and did he but want what they 
call the crest on the back of his head, and could 
you see only the back of the bird, he might be 
thought a pigeon, since he shineth on the back like 
a peacock in all colors blue and green can make 
when mixed together. But when he standeth on 
his somewhat long legs, and thou seest that his 
under parts be white, why, even a Frenchman 
would know he was no pigeon, but must be the 
peewit or lapwing. And I warrant thee we shall 
eat our fill of peewits if we remain here long.” 

“ When thinkest thou of going? ” asked Hugo, 
interestedly. 

“ Why, that I know not. I would fain have 
another dream. I know not how it may be with 
other men, but when I am right weary I dream 
not. Which I take as an omen not to stir till I 
be rested and ready to use my wits. Thou hast 
noticed that weariness dulleth the wits? ” 

“Yea,” replied Hugo. 

“ Why, I have seen in my time many fall into 
grievous snares from nothing more than being 

[ 119 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


weary, and so, dull of sight and hearing. But 
here cometh Fleetfoot sleek and satisfied. I did 
but turn him loose two hours ago, and I warrant 
thee he hath had a fine meal. I will make him 
fast once more, and then we go farther into the 
island to seek another resting-place for the night. 
This is too near the edge of the marsh, and too 
near the Don.” 

Mounting the horses, and with Fleetfoot once 
more in leash, they set out, Humphrey picking 
his way and Hugo following. And by mid-day 
they had come to what Humphrey decided was 
probably the best location for them on the island. 
It was another solid, grassy place, and was graced 
with three little scrub trees which gave them a 
leafy roof under which to lie. From the fringe 
of neighboring rushes the two cut enough to 
strew their resting-place thickly, and so protect 
their bodies from the damp ground. Then Hum- 
phrey dug a shallow fire-pit at the north, and, 
after their mid-day meal, set diligently about col- 
lecting a store of fuel. Tittle was to be found 
solid enough to cook with, and that little he 
stored carefully apart, reserving a great heap of 

dead rushes and reeds for the blaze which was to 

[ 120 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


ward off the night dampness and make them com- 
fortable. In all these labors Hugo bore his share, 
for the two, by tacit consent, were no longer mas- 
ter and man but comrades in need and danger. 

In collecting the reeds they took few from their 
immediate neighborhood, wishing to be as pro- 
tected from chance observation as possible. And 
they found their wanderings in search of fuel full 
of interest. At some distance from their camping- 
place they came upon a muddy shallow. And 
there on the bank Hugo saw his first avoset or 
“ scooper,” as Humphrey called him. The bird 
was resting from his labors when the two first 
observed him. Though the ooze was soft the bird 
did not sink into it. There he stood, his wide- 
webbed toes supporting him on the surface of the 
ooze, and it seemed a long way from his feet up 
his blue legs to his black-and-white body. But 
the oddest thing about him was his long, curved, 
and elastic bill turning up at the end. The bird 
had not observed them, and presently set to work 
scooping through the mud after worms. Then he 
waded out a little way into the shallow, where 
he did not stay long, for, catching sight of Hugo 

and Humphrey, he rose a little in the air and flew 

[ 121 ] 


A BOY’ S RIDE 

swiftly away. Farther on they came upon a 
wading crane with an unlucky snake in his mouth. 
And still farther away they caught sight of a 
mother duck swimming with her young brood 
upon a pool. And every now and then a frog 
plumped into the water. But nowhere did they 
discover, by sight or sound, another human being 
beside themselves. 

When darkness fell the glow-worms shone once 
more, the will-o’-the-wisp danced, and the owls 
hooted. The fire of dead rushes and reeds, fed 
by the patient Humphrey, blazed brightly and shed 
a grateful warmth upon their sheltered resting- 
place under the three scrub trees. And, lying at 
ease upon the rushes, the hours of darkness went 
by till, when the moon arose, the fire had died 
down, Hugo slept, and Humphrey had gone in 
search of a favoring dream. 

Near Doncaster that night camped Richard 
Wood with his three newly hired men-at-arms ; 
while within the town at an inn called the Green 
Dragon lay Walter Skinner. He was newly 
equipped with a horse. “ I need no men-at-arms,” 
he said to himself, “ nor will I hire them. I will 

catch the young lord and his serving-man with 

[ 122 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


arrow and bow if I but come up with them 
again.” 

And that night, safe out of the forest of Galtus, 
Lady De Aldithely and her party encamped on 
the border of Scotland. 

That night also Robert Sadler, pausing to rest 
on his return journey to the castle, looked often 
at the package he carried, and wondered what it 
contained. 

That night also the valiant William Lorimer and 
his men-at-arms rested from their labors well sat- 
isfied. For, while the moat at the great gate held 
only its usual allowance of water, by means of the 
new dam they had constructed, that part of the 
moat near the postern was level full. 

The next morning marked the beginning of the 
sixth day of their journey, and Humphrey rose 
with unimpaired cheerfulness. Once more Hugo’s 
waking eyes beheld two peewits spitted over the 
coals and a meal cake baking in the embers. “ I 
did dream of gold last night,” said Humphrey, by 
way of a morning greeting. “ Knowest thou what 
that betokeneth?” 

“ Nay,” responded Hugo, pleasantly. 

“ It betokeneth success in thy present under- 

[ 123 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


taking*, after first meeting with difficulties. We 
have met with difficulties, and what were they but 
the king’s men? They be now behind us, and 
success is to be ours. But come thou to breakfast 
now. To-morrow morn we set forth again.” 


> 


r 124 j 


CHAPTER IX 


O N this, their last day in the Isle of Axholme, 
Hugo and Humphrey took up the occupa- 
tion of the day before, but with more delibera- 
tion. And they went in a different direction, — 
southeast, toward the Trent. 

“It is this way we journey on the morrow with 
the horses,” remarked Humphrey. “It is as well 
to see what the way is like while we gather our 
store of reeds and rushes. For I did dream of 
gold, which betokeneth success in our present un- 
dertaking, and success ever resteth on good care 
and good judgment. And so let us see where 
the solid places be and where the bogs lie. And 
do thou note well the course so that we may run 
it with safety and speed if need be. And we will 
not gather the reeds and rushes till we return.” 

“ Meanest thou to walk to the Trent, then, to- 
day, and back again?” questioned Hugo. And 
by this time he had so far forgotten the difference 
in their stations that there was respect in his tone, 

which Humphrey was quick to notice. 

[ 125 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“Yea, lad,” answered the serving-man, kindly. 
“ It is only a few miles. It is not well to risk 
miring the horses when I did dream of gold last 
night.” 

Hugo smiled. He was beginning to see that, 
while the superstition of the age, and particularly 
of 'his condition, had, to a certain extent, a hold 
on Humphrey, his course was really directed by 
sturdy common-sense; and he wondered no more 
at Lady De Aldithely’s trust in him. 

The two were well on their way, and Richard 
Wood and his men-at-arms were scouring the for- 
est near Doncaster, when Walter Skinner walked 
out to the stables of the Green Dragon to see to 
his horse. His face was still painful, and he de- 
sired to vent some of his spleen on the unlucky 
groom, whoever he might be, who had his horse 
in charge. He found the horse tied to a ring in 
the stable wall, and the groom having a sorry time 
of it, since every time the groom touched him with 
comb or brush the animal backed, or turned, or 
laid back his ears and snapped with his teeth. 
For the monks at the priory had furnished the 
king’s man, on his compulsion, with the worst 
horse in their stables. 


[ 126 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Here be a beast fit for the Evil One and for 

f 

nobody else,” grumbled the sorely tried groom. 
“ I am like to be killed for my pains in trying to 
smooth his coat for him.” 

The groom was a tall, overgrown fellow of 
nineteen, with a vacant face and an ever-running 
tongue. He now stood stock still upon the ap- 
proach of Walter Skinner and gazed at him. He 
would have done the same if any creature possessed 
of the power of locomotion had come into his view. 
But of that Walter Skinner was ignorant. To 
him the gaze of the groom seemed honor and re- 
spect toward himself, and even, perhaps, awe. And 
he was at once mollified. 

“ My horse is a beast of mettle,” he observed 
complacently when the groom had returned to his 
work. 

“ Ay, and I would that his master, the Evil One, 
had the grooming of him,” was the retort. 

“ Why, how now, sirrah! Dost thou slander the 
horse which is a gift from Mother Church to the 
king’s work? Thou art a knave, and no doubt 
art but unfit for thy task this morn through over- 
late carousing last night.” 

“ Thou mayest call it carousing, if thou wilt,” 

[ 127 J 


A BOY’S RIDE 


said the groom, sulkily. “ I did come from 
Gainsborough yesterday. And in the dark, as I 
did come, I saw a flaming fire in the Isle of 
Axholme.” 

“And what meanest thou to tell me of that?” 
demanded Walter Skinner, sternly. “ Thou wert 
no> doubt so drunk that a will-o’-the-wisp in that 
boggy place did seem to thee even as a flaming 
fire. Why dost thou not stand to my horse and 
get down with him? He hath already backed and 
turned a matter of some miles.” 

The groom stopped and looked at him indig- 
nantly. “ I may be but a groom,” he said, “ but 
the Isle of Axholme I know from a child, every 
bog in it. And I did go to the fire, which was a 
bit out of my way, but, being my only pleasure 
on the journey, I did take it. And there on the 
rushes lay a young lord, and his serving-man did 
feed the fire with reeds.” 

“ Thou didst see that? ” cried Walter Skinner, 
in great excitement. “ Make haste with the beast, 
sirrah. Here is a coin for thee, good groom. I 
do now see thou wert never drunken in thy life. 
Make haste with the horse.” 

The groom stared at him foolishly. “ Why, 

[ 128 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


who could make haste with such a beast? ” he said 
at length. 

“ Then stay not to finish thy work,” cried Walter 
Skinner, impatiently. “ Bring saddle and bridle. 
I must away instantly. But do thou first describe 
to me the place where thou didst see the fire.” 

“ The place,” said the groom, deliberately, while 
he examined the coin Walter Skinner had given 
him. “ Thou dost go till thou comest to it. A 
turn here and a turn there mayhap thou must 
make, and thou wilt find it a little solid place with 
three scrub trees upon it. It is a matter of a short 
distance from the south end of the Isle, and thou 
wilt not fail to know it when thou seest it.” 

With this not over-clear direction Walter Skin- 
ner w r as obliged to be content. Bidding the groom 
to bring the horse to the door of the inn at once, 
he hurried away, paid his reckoning, examined 
carefully the string of his bow, and looked over 
his store of arrows. “ And now, Josceline, son of 
Lord De Aldithely,” he said, “ my arrow will bid 
thee halt this time, and not my voice. And thou, 
Richard Wood, who didst say, ‘ We hunt no more 
in company,’ what wouldst thou give to know of 
this place in the Isle of Axholme? And thou 

9 [ 129 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


mayst have thy men-at-arms to bear thee company, 
and to pay for when thou art done with them. 
They cost thee more than a bow and some arrows 
cost me, nor will they do thee one half the good.” 

So thinking he bestrode the vicious beast which 
backed and plunged about the inn yard, and from 
which the grooms and the watching maids fled in 
all directions. Walter Skinner, however, was not 
to be unseated, and, the horse being headed in 
the right direction, his next plunge carried him 
out of the yard and fairly started him on his way, 
the spur of his rider giving him no permission to 
halt for a moment. 

“ And now,” thought Walter Skinner, when he 
had crossed the Don and was free of the town, 
“ what said the knave groom? I must go till I 
come to it. Ay, and who knoweth when that shall 
be, and who knoweth the way in this pitfall of 
bogs? Three scrub trees, saith he, and all together 
on one little solid place. I would I might see 
three little scrub trees.” 

His horse had been over the Isle before and, 

being given his head, began to pick his way so 

cleverly that Walter Skinner was still further 

elated. He sat up pompously and pictured him- 

[ 130 J 


A BOY’S RIDE 


self a courtier at the palace as a reward for this 
day’s work. “ For I lean not to golden rewards 
alone,” he said. “ No doubt it can be managed 
that from this day I begin to rise. The king hath 
advanced baser men than I, let Richard Wood 
think as he will in the matter.” 

And now he descried the three little scrub trees; 
but he saw not the horses, they having been taken 
to another islet for pasture; nor Fleetfoot, who 
had gone with Hugo and Humphrey. 

“ The knave groom spake true,” said Walter 
Skinner, with satisfaction. “ There be the rushes 
on which they lie, and there the ashes of the fire. 
I will seek out a convenient hiding-place in the 
reeds, and to-night, when the fire blazeth bright, 
then shall my arrows sing.” 

So saying he sought a place of concealment for 
himself and his horse, and, having found it, and 
tied the horse securely, he lay down well satisfied. 

Hugo and Humphrey did not return till toward 
evening. They had caught some fish in the Trent 
and roasted them on the coals for their dinner, and 
afterward had come leisurely back, enjoying the 
scenes and sights of the marsh. 

From his covert Walter Skinner saw them come, 

[ 131 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

each leading a horse which he had stopped to get 
from the islet pasture, while Fleetfoot lagged be- 
hind on a little hunting expedition of his own. 
The spy drew his bow and sighted. “ Yea,” he 
said to himself, “ no doubt I can do it. And what 
is an arrow wound more or less when one would 
win the favor of the king? The lad or his ser- 
vant may die of it. But what is death? It is e’en 
what every man sooner or later must meet. And 
it is the king’s favor I will have, come what may 
to these runaways.” Then he laid down the bow 
and arrow and took a long drink from his horn. 
“ When the flames shoot high and they be in the 
strong light of the blaze, then will I shoot,” he 
said. “ And it is their own fault if they be hit. 
They should have remained in the castle where 
Robert Sadler arriveth this same night.” 

Hugo and Humphrey had not before been on 
such thoroughly amicable terms as they were to- 
night. The boy, so much like his young master, 
had, unconsciously to Humphrey, won his way 
into the heart of the serving-man; while Hugo 
had learned in their few days’ companionship to 
feel toward Humphrey as his faithfulness deserved. 
So, while the fire blazed up and all remained in 

[ 132 ] 






















































' 



























































































































































A BOY’S RIDE 


darkness outside of its circle, Humphrey enter- 
tained Hugo with tales of his early life, to which 
the boy listened with appreciation. “ Ay, lad,” 
said Humphrey, when half an hour had gone by 
and he paused in his story to look at him with ap- 
proval, “ thou hast the ears of my lady herself, 
who is ever ready to listen to what I would say.” 

And then came a whistling arrow, shot by an 
unsteady, drunken hand, and another, and another, 
none of which wounded either boy or man, since 
Hugo was still defended by his shirt of mail, and 
Humphrey wore a stout gambeson. 

Instantly Humphrey started up and, snatching 
a great bunch of long, flaming reeds to serve him 
for a light, ran in the direction whence the arrows 
had come. Hugo, catching up an armful of reeds 
yet unlighted to serve when those Humphrey car- 
ried should burn out, hurried after him. Soon 
they had found the covert and the spy, and, toss- 
ing his torch to Hugo, the serving-man rushed at 
him. 

“ And wouldst thou slay my dear lad? ” he cried. 
“ Thou snipe! ” 

“Stand back!” sputtered the spy. “Lay not 
thy hands upon me. I serve the king.” 

[ 133 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Ay, and thou shalt find what it is to serve the 
king,” cried Humphrey, seizing him by the shoul- 
ders and dragging him along. “ Yon is his horse,” 
he said, turning to Hugo. “ Cut him loose.” 

The boy obeyed and, with a snort, the animal 
was off. 

“'Thou shalt be well punished for this deed,” 
threatened the spy. “ The steed was the gift of 
the prior of St. Edmund’s.” 

“ Talk not of punishment,” cried the enraged 
Humphrey; “thou who wouldst slay my dear lad. 
Lead to the right, lad!” he cried. “I do know 
a miry pool. It will not suck him down, but it 
will cause him some labor to get out of it.” 

Hugo, bearing the torch, obeyed, and shortly 
they had reached the pool which Humphrey had 
discovered the day before. Grasping his shoulders 
yet more firmly, and fairly lifting the little spy 
from his feet, the stalwart Humphrey set him 
down with a thud in the sticky mud. “ There 
thou mayest stand like a reed or a rush,” he said. 
“ I would thou wert as worthy as either.” 

A moment the spy stood there in water up to 
his knees while Hugo and Humphrey, by the light 
of the ever-renewed torch of reeds, watched him. 

[ 134 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Then he began to try to extricate himself. But 
when he pulled one foot loose, it was only to set 
the other more securely in the mud. 

“ Ay, lad,” observed Humphrey, with satisfac- 
tion. “ He danceth very well, but somewhat 
slowly. Leave we him to his pleasure while we 
go seek for his bow and arrows. It were not well 
that he should shoot at us again.” 

“ Thou villain!” cried the half -drunken Walter 
Skinner; “ when I am a lord in His Majesty’s ser- 
vice thou shalt hear of this night’s work.” 

“ Ay, Sir Stick-in-the-Mud,” responded Hum- 
phrey, indifferently. “ When that day cometh I 
am content to hear of it.” Then he led the 
way back to Walter Skinner’s hiding-place, while 
Hugo followed. And there they found the bow, 
which was of yew with a silken string. And with 
it was a goodly store of ash arrows tipped with 
steel and winged with goose feathers. 

“ We be not thieves, lad,” said Humphrey, “ else 
might we add these to our store.” So saying, he 
broke the arrows and flung them away, cut the 
bow-string in pieces, and flung the bow far from 
him into the water. “ Had these been in a steady 
hand,” he said, “ it might now be ill with us. 

[ 135 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


Perchance the spy doth not now cry out, ‘ Aha, 
Fortune! thou art with me.’ And now let us 
back to our couch of rushes, there to wait till the 
moon rise, which will be some three hours. And 
rest we in darkness. We may not have more 
fire to make us targets, perchance, for the other 

spy-” 

In silence the two lay down on the rushes, 
Hugo full of excitement and nervously listening 
for the whistle of another arrow. And, much to 
the boy’s astonishment, in five minutes the faith- 
ful Humphrey was sound asleep. 

He continued to sleep until the beams of the 
rising moon struck him full in the face, when he 
awoke. “ Hast slept, lad? ” he asked. 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. 

“ Thou shouldst have done so. Perchance the 
time cometh shortly when we dare not sleep; for 
I did dream of being taken by the constable, which 
signifieth want of wit, and so I know not what 
to do. But we may not bide here. On we must 
go, and make the best of what wit we have.” He 
rose from the rushes and, followed by Hugo, went 
to the horses and put Fleetfoot once more in leash. 
Then, each having mounted, he led the way toward 

[ 136 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


the Trent, over the track they had marked out 
the day before. 

“If the spy be not too lazy, he will doubtless 
be free of the miry pool in the morning,” observed 
Humphrey. “ And he might as well have dreamed 
of being taken by the constable, for if he lacketh 
not the wit to keep him from a worse case, I 
know not the measure of a man’s mind. And that 
should I know, having observed not only my lord, 
but the valiant William Lorimer also.” 


[ 137 ] 


CHAPTER X 


I T was the afternoon of this same day in which 
Walter Skinner had ventured into the wilds 
of the Isle of Axholme, there to try to catch Hugo 
and Humphrey. At the same time Robert Sadler 
was galloping on his way from the town of Chester 
to the castle, eager to meet the troop, for his jour- 
ney was now almost accomplished. Sir Thomas De 
Lany had promised him his reward, — a certain 
sum of money; he had also promised the troop 
he had borrowed to help him a reward in addition 
to the sum he was to pay to their master, even a 
share of the plunder of the castle. Robert Sadler 
knew this, and he had quite decided that the pack- 
age he carried would properly fall to him when 
her ladyship should be left without a son and with- 
out treasure. He therefore had bestowed it care- 
fully out of sight of the king’s spies and their 
borrowed troop, whom he was now expecting to 
meet. He had said nothing about the presence of 
Hugo at the castle and his great resemblance to 

[ 138 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


Josceline; for he was of a mind to deliver up 
Hugo and keep back Josceline, since, by so doing, 
be might have hope of winning another reward 
from the king in addition to the one he should 
receive from Sir Thomas. 

“It is a long head that I have,” he said to him- 
self with pride. “ And these knave spies shall find 
it not so easy to come to the bottom of my mind. 
They think I am but Irish, and so to be despised. 
And what be they but English? They shall find 
I will know how to have the better of them.” 

The sun was within half an hour of setting 
when he drew rein at the oak which was the scene 
of their appointed meeting. If he had been eager, 
the others had been no less so, and at once Sir 
Thomas and one of his aids advanced to meet him, 
while, at a short distance, halted the troop of 
men-at-arms. 

“ Have ye the troop? And is all well?” asked 
Robert Sadler, his wide mouth stretched in a 
treacherous smile. 

“ Yea,” responded Sir Thomas. 

“ Walter Skinner and Richard Wood — do they 
still keep watch from the tree? ” asked Robert 
Sadler, smiling still more widely. 

[ 139 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“Why, what is that to thee?” demanded Sir 
Thomas, haughtily. “It is we who do the king’s 
business. Thou doest but ours.” 

“ Ay,” answered Robert Sadler, with feigned 
humility; “I do but yours.” 

“ Thou sayest well. But think not to pry into 
the king’s business as thou dost into the affairs 
at the castle. From thine own showing thou must 
have been a great meddler there.” 

“ And how could I have done thy business there 
if I had not meddled, as thou callst it? ” 

“ I say not that thou couldst,” returned Sir 
Thomas. “ I do but warn thee not to meddle with 
us. And now, where is the package?” 

“Package? Package?” mumbled Robert Sad- 
ler, in apparent bewilderment. 

“ The package, sirrah, thou w T ert to deliver from 
Chester to her ladyship. Hast forgotten the pur- 
pose of thy journey? ” 

“ Oh, ay, the package! ” returned Robert Sadler, 
uneasily. “ I am like to be berated by her lady- 
ship for returning without it.” 

“ We would not have thee so berated,” said the 
aid, speaking for the first time. “ And so I 
come to thine help.” And he reached beneath 

£ 140 J 


A BOY’S RIDE 


the short cloak of Robert Sadler and drew forth 
the package. 

“ I pray thee, return it to me,” said Robert 
Sadler, humbly. “ Without it I am undone.” 

“ Do thou but parley as thou saidst with the 
warder on the bridge, and thou wilt find there will 
be no upbraiding from her ladyship to cause thee 
alarm,” returned the aid. 

“ And when wilt thou pay me the sum of 
money?” asked Robert Sadler, anxiously, not lik- 
ing either his reception or his subsequent treat- 
ment at the hands of Sir Thomas’s aid. 

“And what is that to thee?” demanded Sir 
Thomas, fiercely. “If I withhold the sum alto- 
gether it is no more than what hath been done by 
mightier men than I. Do thou parley on the 
bridge as thou saidst, or thy head shall answer for 
it. Ride on now before us. We will await our 
opportunity in the edge of the wood.” 

“ Thou didst not speak so to me,” said the 
traitor, “ when thou wouldst have me do this deed. 
It was then, 4 Good Robert Sadler,’ and 4 1 will 
reward thee well.’ Naught didst thou say of my 
head answering my failure to obey thy will.” 
Then he rode on as he had been commanded. 

[ 141 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


He now saw that he had betrayed her ladyship 
and her son for naught, and his dejection thereat 
was plainly visible. But presently he sat upright 
in triumph as he remembered his plan, which he 
had for the moment forgotten, — to betray Hugo 
into their hands and keep back Josceline for him- 
self to deliver to the king. How he was to ac- 
complish this difficult thing he did not know, but, 
in his ignorance, he imagined it might easily be 
done. 

Sir Thomas and his aid were watching him. 
“ The knave meaneth to play us false,” observed 
the aid. “See how he sitteth and rideth in 
triumph.” 

“ His head answereth for it if he doth,” returned 
Sir Thomas, fiercely. 

And now they had all arrived at the edge of 
the wood and the sun was down. “ Set forward 
across the open, sirrah,” commanded Sir Thomas, 
“ and see that thou fail not in thine office.” 

The traitor ground his teeth in rage, but out- 
wardly he was calm as, putting his horse to the 
trot, he advanced toward the great gate and wound 
his horn. “ Now may the old warder show more 
than his usual caution,” said Robert Sadler, “ My 

[ 142 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

head is likely to fall whether we get in or whether 
we be kept out. And it were pleasant to see these 
villains foiled in their desires.” The old warder, 
obeying the instructions of William Lorimer, be- 
yond keeping the traitor w r aiting a quarter of an 
hour, by which delay the darkness desired by Wil- 
liam Lorimer drew so much the nearer, having 
answered the summons, let down the bridge with 
unaccustomed alacrity of motion. In accordance 
with the same instructions, he kept his back to the 
direction from which the troop were expected to 
come, and he seemed quite as ready to parley after 
the bridge was down as even Sir Thomas could 
have desired. 

“ The warder groweth doltish,” observed Sir 
Thomas, as he prepared to set forward. 

“ Mayhap,” answered the aid. 

“ What meanest thou by ‘ mayhap ’? ” demanded 
Sir Thomas. 

But by this time the whole troop were in mo- 
tion and making a rush for the bridge. They 
gained it; they were across it, sweeping Robert 
Sadler before them, and within the walls before 
the sluggish old warder had seemed to see what 

was happening. They were well across the outer 

[ 143 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


court before they noticed the strange air of empti- 
ness that seemed to have fallen on the place. They 
stormed into the inner court; and here, too, all 
was silence. And then they turned on Robert 
Sadler. “Art thou a double traitor?” demanded 
Sir Thomas. 

But the vacant astonishment of Robert Sadler’s 
face gave true answer. 

“ He hath been made a dupe,” said the aid. 
“ He hath been sent to Chester that the castle 
might be rid of him.” 

“ Nay,” returned Sir Thomas. “ Thou art ever 
unduly suspicious.” Then turning to Robert Sad- 
ler he said: “Where be the men-at-arms of the 
castle? Where do they hide themselves because of 
us? And where bideth her ladyship and her son? ” 
Then catching sight of the open door of the 
stairway tower, without awaiting Robert Sadler’s 
reply, he led the way thither and up the stair, 
dragging the reluctant Robert Sadler with him, 
and was followed by the troop. 

The ladies’ bower was empty. The treasure 
from the chests was also gone. Down the troop 
rushed violently, and into the great hall and out 
again. Everywhere silence. Darkness had now 

[ 144 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


fallen, and with torches the troop of men-at-arms, 
led by Sir Thomas and his aid, ran about the 
inner court, peering into the empty stables and 
offices. Presently to Robert Sadler the light of 
a torch revealed the postern gate ajar. “ They 
must have fled! ” he cried. “ See! ” and he pointed 
to the postern gate. 

“ Mount and follow! ” commanded Sir Thomas. 

“ Nay, not in the darkness,” objected the aid. 
“ Wait for the moon to rise.” 

“ Ay, wait! ” exclaimed Sir Thomas, impatiently. 
<c I believe thou wast born with that word in thy 
mouth. Wouldst have them get a better start of 
us than they have? Dost know that they did leave 
the treasure chests empty, and then dost thou coun- 
sel us to wait on the tardy moon? ’T was rich 
treasure they took, or report speaketh false. And 
every moment maketh our chance to seize it 
smaller.” 

Every man was now astride his horse, and Sir 
Thomas, his hand on Robert Sadler’s bridle, dashed 
ahead. The rest followed, crowding through the 
narrow gate and out into the darkness on the 
narrow bridge. Here and there a torch gleamed, 
and its reflection shone full in the glassy water 

10 f 143 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


of the ditch. Here was no shadowy depth of a 
ravine, but a broad plain, — a watery plain, into 
which the heavily weighted horses and riders sank, 
rising to cry for help and catch at straws. The 
cries of the drowning only hurried those behind to 
the rescue, who, supposing their fellows in advance 
to be assailed, rushed headlong on to the same fate. 
The torches were extinguished, and none knew 
which way to turn to escape. So perished the 
whole troop, Robert Sadler going down in the 
grasp of Sir Thomas De Lany. 

Across the moat, ready mounted to ride, were 
William Lorimer and the few men-at-arms left 
him by Lady De Aldithely on her departure. “ So 
may it be with all traitors and thieves,” said he. 
“ And now fare we southward to France and our 
lord. We need not the light of the moon to show 
us our path.” 

The clatter of their horses’ hoofs soon died away, 
and when the moon rose it shone down on the de- 
serted castle, and on the shining water of the moat 
near the postern, but it shone not on horse or 
rider living or dead. All night William Lorimer 
and his little troop rode, not cautiously and shrink- 
ing!^ but boldly; and they went into camp in the 

[ 146 ] 





A BOY’S RIDE 


early morning in Sherwood Forest, more miles 
away from home than Hugo and Humphrey had 
covered in all their journeying. 

And in the swamp Walter Skinner, who had 
finally extricated himself from the mire, floundered 
about from bog to pool, and from pool to bog, 
vowing vengeance on Humphrey, while Hugo and 
the faithful serving-man, avoiding Gainsborough, 
pushed on toward Lincoln. 

“ I did dream of being taken by the constable,” 
said Humphrey, “ which betokeneth want of wit. 
I know not what were better to do. What sayest 
thou?” And he looked questioningly at Hugo. 

The boy smiled. He could not help wondering 
if this were not the first time in his life that Hum- 
phrey had acknowledged himself at a loss what to 
do. A dream had caused him to doubt his own 
possession of sufficient wit for all purposes, — 
something which no amount of argument could 
have accomplished. But to-day Hugo felt no 
contempt for him. He smiled only at the one 
weakness which was a foil to Humphrey’s many 
excellent qualities. And he said pleasantly, “ Why, 
how now, Humphrey? Thou dost need another 
dream to restore thy courage.” 

[ 147 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

Humphrey eyed him doubtfully. “ Host think 
so, lad? ” he said. “ Mayhap thou art right. But 
I go not in the lead till I have it. Wit is not the 
same at all times. Perchance something hath 
damaged mine for the time. Do thou lead till I 
recover it; for thou art no more a stranger to me 
as when we started.” 

“Nor thou to me, good Humphrey,” replied 
Hugo, with an affectionate smile. “ And I say, 
let us on with all courage to Lincoln.” 

“ And why, lad? ” asked Humphrey. “ Because 
thou wouldst see the place, even as I would see 
Ferrybridge a while back?” 

“ Partly,” laughed Hugo. “ And partly because 
it lieth very well in our way.” 

“ Hast ever been there? ” asked Humphrey, 
anxiously. 

“ Nay, but mine uncle, the prior, hath often 
been. And I know the place by report. We come 
to it by the north. Came we from the south, we 
could see it some twenty miles off, because the 
country lieth flat around it, and the city is set on 
a hill. Why, surely thou dost know the place. It 
was a city under the Danes.” 

Yea, I have heard of it from my grandsire,” 

[ 148 ] 


a 


A BOY’S BIDE 


acknowledged Humphrey; “but I know not if 
king’s men be like to flourish there. For us that 
is the principal thing.” 

Hugo laughed. “ Ah, my brave Humphrey,” 
he said, “ why shouldst thou fear king’s men? 
Thou who canst lift up a king’s man by the 
shoulders and plant him like a rush in the miry 
pool! ” 

At this Humphrey smiled slightly himself. 
“ Well, lad,” he said presently, “ I will not gain- 
say thee. Go we to Lincoln, and may good come 
of it. But we stay not long? ” 

“ Why, that,” answered Hugo, “ is what no 
man can tell. We must be cautious.” 

“ Ay, lad,” assented Humphrey, approvingly. 

“ Thou knowest of Bishop Hugh of Avalon? ” 
inquired Hugo, chatting of whatever came to his 
mind in the hope to bring back Humphrey’s con- 
fidence in himself. 

“ Nay, lad,” returned the serving-man. “ I 
know no more of bishops than thou of hedgehogs 
and other creatures of the wood.” 

“ This was a bishop, I have heard mine uncle 
sav, that loved the birds. He hath now been nine 
years dead, and another man is, in his stead, bishop 

[ 149 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


of Lincoln. But in his time he had many feath- 
ered pets, and one a swan, so hath mine uncle said. 
And also, he never feared to face the king.” 

“ Sayest thou so, lad? ” responded Humphrey, 
with some degree of interest. “ Mayhap his spirit 
still may linger in the place, and so king’s men 
not flourish there. We will on to see.” 

So in due time they came to the town, and en- 
tered through its old Roman gate, and, looking 
down the long hill on the top of which they stood, 
saw the city of Lincoln, which, when William the 
Conqueror came, had eleven hundred and fifty 
houses. 

“It is a great place,” remarked Humphrey, 
“ and maketh a goodly show.” 


[ 150 ] 


CHAPTER XI 


I N vain Richard Wood and his men had scoured 
the forest near Doncaster. They found no 
trace of those they sought. “ Did I believe, like 
some, in witchcraft,” declared Richard Wood, “ so 
should I say there was witchcraft in their escape. 
Why, what should a Saxon serving-man and a boy 
of fourteen know, that they should foil good men 
on a chase? ” 

“ Ay,” responded one of his men-at-arms, “ but 
thou seest they have done it. In this forest they 
are not. Mayhap they lie close in the town of 
Doncaster.” 

Richard Wood looked at him reflectively. “ I 
had not thought on that,” he said. “ Mayhap thou 
art right. Go we into the town and see. We 
need rest, and bite, and sup, and the beasts also 
need the same.” 

So the weary four entered the town of Don- 
caster and drew rein before the Green Dragon 
Inn. And one of the grooms who took the horses 

[ 151 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


was the same vacant-faced, foolish fellow who had 
received the coin from Walter Skinner. “ Here 
be more king’s men,” he said to himself, “ and 
mayhap another coin for me. I will send them 
also to the Isle of Axholme, where I judge sor- 
row hath met the other king’s man, since the horse 
he s had of the Evil One did come galloping back 
without a rider.” And he smiled ingratiatingly 
at Richard Wood, who took no notice of him. 
Whereat, somewhat crestfallen, he was fain to 
lead the horse away, the others having been al- 
ready taken care of by other grooms who had no 
thought of the Isle of Axholme, and no hopeful 
expectation of coins. 

The morning that saw Hugo and Humphrey 
far on their way to Lincoln saw Richard Wood 
rise refreshed at the Green Dragon with his de- 
termination to continue the chase well renewed. 
And that same morning it had occurred to the 
vacant-faced groom that he must speak now or 
never if he expected any reward for his speech. 
So the instant Richard Wood appeared in the inn 
yard he sidled up to him and began, at the same 
time knocking his grooming tools, which he still 
held in his hands, nervously together, an accom- 

[ 152 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


paniment to his speech, which seemed to surprise 
the spy. “ I did come from Gainsborough two 
nights agone,” he said. 

“ That is naught to me, varlet,” interrupted 
Richard Wood. “ Get thee back to thy groom- 
ing-” 

“Yea, verily,” insisted the groom; “but it is 
somewhat to thee,” and he knocked the tools to- 
gether in his hands at a great rate. “ I did come 
by the Isle of Axholme. And the other king’s 
man did accuse me of drunkenness and revellings 
when I did begin to have speech with him of the 
matter, but he did change his mind, and give me 
a coin. Do thou but the same and thou also may- 
est hear what I did see.” 

Richard Wood regarded him attentively. “ Speak 
truth,” he said, “ and say that I would hear, and 
thou shalt have two coins.” 

The vacant-faced groom grinned a broad and 
foolish grin. “ Said I not,” he cried joyfully, 
“ that thou wert a better man than the other? For 
he was but small and fierce and hath met sorrow, 
or his horse had not come back riderless.” 

Richard Wood smiled contemptuously at this 
reference to Walter Skinner. Then he said: 

[ 153 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Thou didst come by the Isle of Axholme. What 
sawest thou there? ” 

“ Why, thou canst talk like an advocate,” said 
the foolish groom, who had never seen an advo- 
cate in his life. “ Ay,” he continued, “ he that 
giveth two coins is ever a better master than he 
that giveth one. And I did see a young lord 
and his serving-man lie on a bed of rushes; and 
ever and anon the serving-man did rise to feed 
the blazing fire of reeds; and it was the fire I 
first did see, and, going to the fire, I did see 
them.” 

“ The Isle of Axholme lieth eighteen miles 
long and five in breadth,” said Richard Wood. 
“Where didst thou see them?” and he held up 
three coins. 

“ Toward the south end on a little solid place 
which hath on it three scrubby trees. There did 
they lie.” And the groom left off speaking to 
eye the money in ecstasy, for not often did such 
wealth come his wav. 

Richard Wood tossed him the coins. “ Make 
haste with the horses,” he said. “ Hast thou no 
other marks to know the place?” 

“ Why, nay,” answered the groom, regretfully. 

[ 154 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ But thou wilt surely know it when thou comest 
to it,” and he smiled broadly. 

Ten minutes later the party was off, and, cross- 
ing the Don at the town, found themselves in the 
Isle of Axholme. And then Richard Wood paused 
to give his men instructions. “ Here do we need 
caution,” he said. “ This fellow is not easily to 
be caught, for I make naught of the young lord. 
He is doubtless some trusty retainer sent with the 
lad by her ladyship because he hath wit to hide 
and double on his track and so baffle pursuit. But 
he hath not yet reached port to set sail for France, 
and mayhap he will not. It remaineth now for 
us to hide and creep among the rushes and reeds 
and scrubby trees, and so come up with him 
unseen.” 

The men-at-arms listened respectfully, and the 
party separating themselves so that each man rode 
alone at a little distance from his fellows, they 
took the same general direction, and so advanced 
slowly and carefully, taking advantage of every 
bit of cover in their way, and often pausing to 
listen. They had proceeded in this manner some 
two hours when Richard Wood saw the three 
scrub trees, and, waving the signal to his men, the 

[ 155 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


advance was made with renewed caution. At last 
all were near enough to see the couch of rushes 
and the ashes of the fire, but they saw nothing of 
serving-man or boy, who by this time had reached 
Lincoln. Silently, at a signal from Richard 
Wood, the party drew together. “ Ye see,” said 
he, pointing to the place, “ that they be not here. 
Either they be gone roaming about for the day 
in search of food, or they be gone altogether. 
We may not know of a surety till evening when, 
if they be not altogether gone, they will return. 
If they be gone, we have lost a day and given 
them an added start of us. Wherefore I counsel 
that we pursue the search warily through the Isle 
in the hope that we come up with them. What 
say ye?” 

“ We say well,” responded the men. 

The party now separated again, and, going even 
more slowly than before through the silent Isle, 
sought to be as noiseless as possible. But every 
now and then some horse splashed suddenly and 
heavily into a pool, or scrambling out of the water 
crunched and broke the reeds and scared the water- 
fowl, which rose shrieking and flew noisily away. 
At such mishaps Richard Wood restrained his 

[ 156 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


impatience as well as he was able, knowing that 
they were unavoidable and that his men were 
faithful. Thus another hour went by and there 
was no trace of the fugitives. They were now 
going due northwest, and a half-hour later one of 
the men-at-arms gave the signal. Silently Richard 
Wood approached him. “ I did see one of them,” 
said the man in a low tone. “ He lieth beneath 
a tree beyond this fringe of reeds on the next solid 
place.” 

And now Richard Wood was all excitement. 
“ Which was it?” he asked; “the young lord or 
the serving-man? ” 

“ Why, thou knowest I did never see either,” 
replied the man, “ and I could not draw very 
near. But the person I did see did seem too small 
to be the stout Saxon serving-man of whom thou 
hast spoken.” 

Without a word, but with his face expressing 
great triumph, Richard Wood waved to the others 
to approach, which they did slowly and with care. 
Having come up with him, he communicated to 
them the news he had received, and, bidding them 
scatter in such a manner as to surround the little 
place on which the fortunate man-at-arms had dis- 

[ 157 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


covered the man or boy lying, he waited with such 
patience as he could muster until the time had 
elapsed necessary for the carrying out of his com- 
mands, and then advanced to capture the young 
lord with his own hands. And what was his dis- 
gust, when he came up with the sleeper under 
the tree, to find Walter Skinner. 

“And is it thou, Walter Skinner?” he de- 
manded when he had roused him. “ And what 
doest thou here? ” 

“ Ay, Richard Wood, it is I. And what I do 
here is no concern of thine. Here have I been 
a day and a night and this second day. Little 
have I had to eat, and my drinking-horn is but 
now empty. And I have been planted in a miry 
pool. And I have lost my horse and my way 
also; and have floundered into more bogs and out 
of them than can be found in all Robert Sadler’s 
Ireland. Were I king, I would have no Isle of 
Axholme in all my dominions. Could I do no 
better, I would pull down the hill of Lincoln and 
cart it hither to fill these vile water-holes. Do 
but see my doublet and hose. Were I called sud- 
denly to the palace would not the king and the 
court despise me as a drunken ruffler from some, 

[ 158 ] 







A BOY’S RIDE 


revel-rout that had fallen from his horse? When 
all the blame is to be laid on this Isle of Axholme, 
which ought, by right, to belong to France, since 
it is full of frogs.” 

“ Thou art crazed, as thou always art when 
thou drinkest,” said Richard Wood, coldly. 

“ Dost thou say I have been drinking? ” de- 
manded Walter Skinner, starting up. 

“ Yea, I say it. Thou sayest it also. For thou 
didst say thy drinking-horn was but now empty.” 

“ Yea, verily,” answered Walter Skinner. “If 
thou be a true man do but fill it for me again. 
Or lead me from this vile place, where one hear- 
eth naught but the squawk of birds and the croak 
of frogs. I would fain see the Green Dragon 
and the idiot groom that did send me here. I 
warrant thee I will crack his pate for him.” 

“Where is thy horse?” asked Richard Wood. 

“Ay, where is he? Who but that vile serving- 
man did bid the young lord cut him loose? ” 

“ Thou dreamest,” said Richard Wood, incredu- 
lously. “ Would a serving-man forget his station 

and bid his master do a task? ” 

“Ay, would he, if he were this serving-man. 
I tell thee he would bid the king himself do a 

[ 159 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


task if he chose, and, moreover, the king would 
obey. ’T was he did plant me in the miry pool 
and say I did dance well but somewhat slowly 
when I did try to unplant myself, and for every 
foot I took up sunk the other deeper in the 
mire. And he did dub me ‘ Sir Stick-in-the-Mud,’ 
mpreover, for which I do owe him a grudge and 
will requite him. I will meet him one day where 
there be no miry pools, and then let him be- 
ware.” This last he uttered with a look which 
was intended to be fierce, but which was only 
silly. 

“ Didst thou come after them alone with no man 
to help thee? ” asked Richard Wood, still more 
incredulouslv. 

“ Oh, I did have help enough,” was the answer, 

with a crafty look. “ I did have to my help a 

yew bow with a silken string that the king himself 

need not despise, and a great store of arrows, 

moreover. And I did hide and bide my time until 

the darkness of night came and the fire blazed 

high. And then I did let my arrows fly. And 

what did the serving-man? He did catch up the 

very fire and rush upon me. And later he did 

break my arrows and cut my bow-string, and fling 

[ 160 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


my bow into the water, and then departed, I know 
not where.” 

“ Thou art but a sorry fool,” declared Richard 
Wood, after some thought. “ And yet I cannot 
find it in my heart to leave thee here. Mount up 
behind me, and at Gainsborough I will set thee 
down. There canst thou shift for thyself, and 
chase or forbear to chase as thou choosest.” 

“ Ay, thou sayest truly,” said the half -drunken 
Walter Skinner. “ And should I now forbear to 
chase, a dukedom would no more than reward me 
for the perils I have seen. First in the lofty tree 
watching the castle; and thou knowest that now, 
when, from the interdict, no bells may ring to 
disperse the tempests, I might have died from the 
lightning stroke, not once but many times. For 
there might have been a tempest and lightning 
every day, and no thanks to the king that there 
was not. Then, too, I did encounter perils from 
the boughs which might have broken and did not. 
And wherefore did they not? Because they were 
too tough and sound. And this, too, moreover, 
was no thanks to the king. And two horses have 
I lost, — one mine own and one the gift of the prior 

of St. Edmund’s. And did the prior wish to give 
11 [ 161 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


me the beast? Nay, he did not, and would have 
refused it if he had dared. He made as if he 
gave it because of the king, but he did not. He 
feared before me, as well he might. For I had 
met a hedgehog, and when a man is in such a case 
he is in no mind to have a horse refused him by 
a fat prior. And all this also was no thanks to 
the king. And then I did meet that varlet of a 
groom at the Green Dragon, and he did send me 
here. And here have I met such misfortunes as 
would last a man his lifetime.” 

To all this Richard Wood had lent but half an 
ear, being occupied in turning over in his mind 
the fact that Hugo and Humphrey had been in 
the Isle and had gone, and trying to decide what 
was best to do. He now looked at him. “ Mount 
up behind me and cease thy prating,” he said. 
Then turning to the men-at-arms he continued: 
“ We go hence to Gainsborough. From thence 
down to Sherwood Forest. It seemeth this serv- 
ing man loveth woods and wilds. Therefore it 
were waste of time to seek for him in towns and 
beaten ways.” 

All the while he was speaking Walter Skinner, 

with many groans, was trying to mount behind 

[ 162 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


his old companion; but, on account of the horse 
shying his objections to such a proceeding, and 
the drunken clumsiness of Walter Skinner himself, 
nothing had been accomplished. Richard Wood 
therefore called on one of the men-at-arms to dis- 
mount and hoist him up; which he did much as 
if the fierce little spy had been a bag of meal, and 
much to Walter Skinner’s discomfort, who sud- 
denly found himself heavily seated with one leg 
doubled up under him and with a bumped face 
where he had struck against Richard Wood’s 
shoulder. He soon righted himself, however, 
and, clinging to his old friend, rode away to 
Gainsborough. 


[ 163 ] 


CHAPTER XII 


A S Hugo and Humphrey with Fleetfoot in leash 
l looked about them from the backs of their 

horses, it suddenly occurred to the prudent serving- 

* 

man that to go to an inn was not the safest 
thing in the world for them to do. “ Thou art 
like our young lord Josceline, and Josceline is like 
his father,” said Humphrey. “ And though they 
be few who would aid the king against my lord 
now fled away to France, still there be a few un- 
principled knaves in every place. And though 
Lincoln had no longer ago than nine years the 
good Hugh thou didst speak of for its bishop, still, 
if some knave abiding here should look upon thee 
and say, ‘ Behold the son of De Aldithely! I will 
take him!’ it might go ill with thee. Wherefore 
I know not what were best to do. We be now 
come here, and have no place to lay our heads. 
The woods and the fens be safer.” 

Then Hugo smiled. “ Thou speakest not of 
thyself, Humphrey,” he said. “ How if some 
knave abiding here should think to take not only 

[ 164 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


the son of De Aldithely, but his brave serving- 
man also? Thou art more careful of me than of 
thyself, and I shall call it to mind one day.” 

“ Ay, lad,” said Humphrey, smiling in his turn. 
“ Thou art as brave as any De Aldithely thyself. 
For who but the brave taketh time to think of 
another, and he only a serving-man, when himself 
is in danger? But all this talk procureth us no 
safe place to lie, and methinks already there be 
some in the streets that gape upon us.” 

“No more than idlers ever do,” responded 
Hugo, with assurance. “We be two strangers, 
and Fleetfoot, moreover, is a fine hound and 
worth the looking at.” 

“ Ay,” said Humphrey, regretfully. “ The 
hound is yet likely to get us into trouble. But 
whither do we go? I would fain be out of the 
sight of these gazers.” 

“ Not to an inn, good Humphrey. I have here 
a ring from mine uncle, the prior, which, when 
I show it at certain places, will procure us lodg- 
ing, and Lincoln is one of them. We go not down 
the hill toward the river. Our place is here near 
the cathedral in the house of the canon Richard 
Durdent.” 

[ 165 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


Humphrey smiled. “It is good that thou hast 

for thine uncle a prior,” he said. 

“ Ay,” responded Hugo. “ He is a kind uncle. 

Where I show his ring I get not only lodging, 
but certain moneys to help me on my way. He 
thought it not best that I should travel far with 
much gold about me, wherefore he hath made 
these arrangements. He knoweth the canon Dur- 
dent of old.” 

“ I would see this ring,” said Humphrey, curi- 
ously. 

“ And so thou shalt,” promised Hugo, “ when 
we be safely lodged.” 

“ How far reacheth the ring? ” inquired Hum- 
phrey. 

“ Even to France,” was the reply. 

“ Then I would that thou wouldst trust it in 
my keeping,” said Humphrey, earnestly. 

The boy looked at him; once more he beheld 
him rushing upon the spy in the Isle of Axholme; 
once more heard his indignant cry, “ And wouldst 
thou slay my dear lad? ” His eyes shone, but 
all he said was, “ I will trust thee w r ith the cus- 
tody of the ring, Humphrey, save at such times 

as I must have it to show.” 

[ 166 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


The serving-man smiled well pleased, though 
he said nothing; for there was no time for words, 
since they had already come to the door of the 
house they sought. 

“ The ring is a powerful one,” said Humphrey, 
when they had been well received and lodged. 
“ I would fain see it.” 

Hugo smiled and handed it to him. The serving- 
man took it in his large hand and regarded it 
narrowly. “ After all it is but a carved fish on a 
red stone,” he said. 

“Thou dost not ask what it betokeneth?” 

Humphrey glanced up quickly. “ Thou canst 
make merry over my dreams,” he said, “ and what 
they betoken. And here thou comest with a circlet 
of gold crowned with a red stone having the like- 
ness of a fish on it. And thou sayest it betoken- 
eth somewhat. Thou mayest no more deride my 
dreams.” 

“Nay, nay, my good Humphrey,” laughed the 
boy. “ Thou shalt have thy dreams if thou wilt. 
But my uncle’s priory is dedicated to St. Wilfrid, 
who taught the Sussex people to catch all fish, 
when before they knew only how to catch eels. 
Therefore my uncle putteth a fish on the ring, that 

[ 167 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


whosoever of his friends that seeth it may know 
it is the ring of Roger Aungerville, prior of St. 
Wilfrid’s.” 

“So doth the fish of thine uncle give us lodg- 
ing and safety,” observed Humphrey, thought- 
fully. “ It is a good ring. I will hold it with all 
care.” And he drew forth the small pouch of 
gold pieces which Lady De Aldithely had given 
him, and put the ring carefully inside it. “It 
hangeth about my neck, thou seest,” he said, as 
he replaced the pouch, “ and no man may take it 
unless he first taketh my head.” 

“Or disableth thee with an arrow or a sword 
thrust,” said Hugo. 

“ Ay,” answered Humphrey, gravely. “ I had 
not spoken of arrows and sword thrusts. I have 
the hope that we may meet with neither. And 
though the way is long when one must creep and 
hide and crawl, and go to the south one day, to 
the southwest another, and the southeast another, 
yet the end cometh at last, and I have hope it be 
a good end. And now I ask thee how long we 
bide and whence go we from here? Doth the 
ring decide? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. “ Thou shalt have thy 

[ 168 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


share of the making of plans. But I would fain 
learn what we may of the region round about, and 
of the safety or danger it holdeth for us ere we 
sally forth.” 

“ Why, now,” said Humphrey, approvingly, 
“ thou art learning craft. For who but a fool 
would be careless of danger? Thou art like my 
lord, who knoweth when to strike and when to 
flee. And for that it is that his men follow him 
madly in battle. For, if there be risk, they do 
know it to be necessary risk, with a certain gain 
to be obtained at the end of it, if all go well. But 
if there be no gain in view, my lord leadeth them 
not into unnecessary danger, and so it is that 
he is a power and the king hateth him. Thou 
doest well to look ahead of thee, for there is 
no gain to be had from lying in the king’s dun- 
geon, but mayhap thou shalt lose thy head also, 
as well as thy liberty. But what doest thou 
now? ” 

“ Why, I fain would sleep, having had no rest 
in the night. But the canon knoweth naught of 
that, nor may I tell him. He must be busy till 
even, and so he sendeth me to view the cathedral; 
and thou mayest go with me.” 

[ 169 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


To this Humphrey made no reply, but followed 
his young master in silence. 

The verger who took them in charge was an 
ancient man called Paulinus of Mansfield, having 
been born in that place. And he soon saw that 
what he had to show of the unfinished cathedral 
was lost on the heavy-lidded boy who was half 
asleep, and upon the Saxon serving-man, who felt 
no interest in such matters. Wherefore when he 
came from the chapter-house into the cloisters he, 
being old and feeble, was fain to sit down on a 
stone bench and rest; and he motioned Hugo to 
a seat beside him. 

Humphrey had the idea that, at all times and 
in all places, wisdom was with the aged. Besides, 
the old verger reminded him, in certain particu- 
lars, of his own grandsire, who was a great talker 
and who knew more of all matters concerning the 
countryside than half a dozen other men. 

And he now cast such an expressive glance 
upon Hugo and gave such a meaning nod toward 
Paulinus, that the boy must perforce have under- 
stood, even if he had not added in a tone too low 
to catch the somewhat deaf ears of the old man, 
“ Ask him what thou wouldest know.” 

[ 170 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


At once Hugo threw off his drowsiness and, in 
the most pleasing manner he could summon, re- 
quested to be informed of the surrounding district. 

“It is easy to see thou art a stranger,” said 
the gratified old man. “ And thou wouldest know 
the region round about Lincoln? ” he repeated. 
“ Thou hast come to him who can tell thee of it, 
for I was born and brought up in these parts. 
It is truly a noble region on all sides save the 
east, where lieth the fen country. For here cometh 
the king frequently to take his pleasure. And 
that is oft pleasure to him which would be none 
to gentler minds.” 

At this Hugo turned startled eyes on Hum- 
phrey, who stood at a little distance, but who did 
not appear to notice his look. 

“Hast ever seen the king?” inquired Paulinus. 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. 

“Nor need thou wish so to do,” returned the 

aged Paulinus. “ I speak to thee in confidence, 

for surely thou art a worthy youth or thou 

wouldest not be guest to the Canon Durdent. The 

king is the youngest and the worst son of the 

wicked Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who is now, 

by the mercy of God, dead. I could tell thee tales 

[ 171 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


of the king’s cruelty that would affright thee, but 
I will not. He loveth to hunt in the Forest of 
Sherwood, and therefore hath he castles and lodges 
hereabout, which he doth frequent as it pleaseth 
him. And he hath ever had a liking for that 
castle at Newark which our bishop of Lincoln, 
Alexander the Magnificent, did build. I could tell 
thee tales of the dungeons there — knowest thou 
what they be like?” And he paused and looked 
at Hugo, who was somewhat pale, for the word 
“ dungeon ” had come to have a fearsome meaning 
to him. 

“ Nay,” answered the boy, “ I know not.” 

“ Thou goest in the castle through a passage to 
the northwest corner, where is a door which is 
guarded. Here is the solid rock; and inside that 
door be two dungeons scooped out of it. No stair 
descendeth to them. Those who occupy them at 
the king’s will are lowered into them by a rope, 
and there is no chance by which they may escape. 
There they abide in darkness, and no skill, or 
cunning, or bravery can avail them so that they 
may escape.” The old man paused. 

Presently Hugo asked, “ And where lieth this 
castle from here?” 


[ 172 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ It lieth to the southwest, less than a score of 
miles away.” 

Hugo said nothing, and, after a short silence, 
Paulinus began again: “If thou shouldest jour- 
ney hence a little south of west, then wouldest 
thou come to Clipstone Palace, which lieth not 
far from Mansfield, where I was born. Here the 
king doth sometimes frequent, and from thence 
he goeth to hunt in the forest. But better men 
than he have frequented it when his father, King 
Henry, and his brother, King Richard, did so- 
journ there. Thinkest thou to journey that 
way? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. “ Methinks our way 
lieth not toward Clipstone.” 

“Mayhap it' were better to journey by Newark, 
where be the dungeons I have told thee of; and 
so, when thou hast viewed that castle, journey 
on southward to Nottingham, where the king hath 
another castle which oft holdeth many prisoners. 
He keepeth there certain children, the hostages he 
demandeth of their fathers. And no man knoweth 
when they will die, for that is a matter of the 
king’s pleasure.” 

The old verger now seemed to fall into a reverie, 

[ 173 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


in which he remained so long that Hugo rose 
from the stone bench, thus rousing him. Slowly 
he raised himself from his seat, having apparently 
forgotten all that he had just been saying, and 
conducted them to the entrance, where he bade 
them adieu. 

“ I fear to bide here longer,” said Humphrey, 
as they returned to the canon’s house. “ Let us 
away to the fens on the east of this place, and, 
through their wilds, make our way southward.” 

Hugo reflected. Then he answered, “ Thou art 
right, Humphrey. It were not best to journey 
so near the king’s castles and dungeons. We will 
away to-morrow morn to the fens.” 

This, however, they were unable to do. The 
canon desired not to part w r ith his friend’s nephew 
so soon. Seeing which, Humphrey consoled him- 
self for the delay by buying ample stores of pro- 
visions, with which he so loaded the horses that 
the canon wondered. “ There be towns all the 
way from hence to London, and inns in all the 
towns,” he said. “ Thou mayest journey without 
that packhorse load.” 

But Humphrey was obstinate. “ The goods be 
bought,” he said stubbornly. 

[ 174 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


The canon who knew not that they intended to 
travel through the fens and avoid the towns, looked 
pityingly at Hugo. “ I see thou hast a master 
in thy man,” he observed. “ I wonder thine Uncle 
Roger did not choose for thee a more obedient 
servant.” 

It was on the tip of the boy’s tongue to tell 
him that his uncle’s prudence had furnished him 
with no servant at all. But, at a warning glance 
from Humphrey, he kept silence. And then, with 
the blessing of the canon, they set out down the 
hill through the narrow street toward the river, 
which they crossed and found themselves outside 
the town. 


CHAPTER XIII 


H AVING deposited Walter Skinner before 
the door of the Lion in Gainsborough, 
Richard Wood and his men set off for Sherwood 
Forest in the strong hope of coming up with the 
runaways they sought. And, in nowise cast down 
by his recent discouraging experiences, Walter 
Skinner held his head high and looked around 
him fiercely, as of yore. His doublet and hose 
besplashed with mud and torn by briers seemed 
not to give him any concern; neither did the con- 
dition of his shoes, which were foul with the slimy 
mud of the swamp. 

“ I will have breakfast, sirrah, and that imme- 
diately,” he said to the waiter when he had en- 


tered the inn. 

The waiter eyed him doubtfully. 

“ Make haste. I command thee to it. Dally 
not with me. I serve the king,” said the fierce 
little man, loftily. 

“ Thy service hath taken thee in strange paths,” 
observed the innkeeper, who had drawn near. 

[ 176 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Not so strange as thine will take thee in if thou 
delay me,” retorted Walter Skinner, haughtily. 

There was in the bar a strange man of a crafty 
and evil face, and he now drew near the imperi- 
ous little spy, and humbly besought the honor of 
taking his breakfast in W alter Skinner’s company. 

“ And so thou shalt,” said the spy, condescend- 
ingly. “ And mayhap, since I have lost my horse, 
thou canst direct me where I can find another. I 
have no time to go harrying a prior for one.” 

The landlord now led the way obsequiously, and 
soon the strange pair were seated in one of the 
several private rooms of the inn, with the promise 
that breakfast should he served to them at once. 

Then said the stranger: “As to the matter of 
a horse, I have at this moment one by me which 
I would fain dispose of. He is not gentle enough 
to my liking.” 

“ I care not for gentleness in a horse,” declared 
Walter Skinner. “ I warrant thee I can ride the 
beast whether he be gentle or not.” 

“ Thou lookest a bold rider,” observed the 
stranger, craftily. 

“ He that doeth the king’s business hath need 
to be a bold rider,” returned Walter Skinner, 

12 [ 177 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


with a look which was intended to convey the in- 
formation that he could unfold mysteries were he 
so disposed. 

“ Thou art high in the king’s counsels, then? ” 
asked the stranger, with a covert smile. 

“ Not so high but I shall be higher when I 
have finished the business in hand,” returned 
Walter Skinner, patronizingly. The breakfast 
being now brought he said no more, but ate like 
a starving man, and with a very unfavorable 
memory of his late meals of wild berries in the 
swamp. The crafty-eyed stranger ate more spar- 
ingly, and seemed to be mentally measuring the 
fierce little man opposite him. At last he asked, 
“And whence goest thou from here?” 

“What is that to thee?” demanded Walter 
Skinner. “Wouldst thou pry into the king’s 
business? Reach me the bottle.” 

The stranger obeyed, and after taking a long 
drink Walter Skinner said: “ I will now tell thee 
what I would not tell to every man. First, from 
here I go to the Green Dragon at Doncaster, 
there to crack the pate of the groom that did 
send me into the Isle of Axholme, where I did 
have all sorts of contumely heaped upon me. And 

[ 178 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


after that I shall pursue my course or not, as it 
pleaseth me. Richard Wood did give me permis- 
sion so to do. Knowest thou Richard Wood? ” 

“ Nay,” answered the stranger. 

“He is well enough in his place, and that is in 
the high tree overlooking the castle. But when 
he will ride abroad with men-at-arms behind him 
to obey his word, then he thinketh that he may 
tell me also, his old friend, what I may and may 
not do. He hath even bid me cease prating. 
What thinkest thou of such a man? ” 

“ Why, he must be a bold man that would bid 
thee cease prating,” replied the stranger. 

Walter Skinner took another drink and then 
looked long and earnestly at him. “ Thou art a 
man of reason,” he said; “ yea, and of wisdom, 
moreover. And come, now, show me thy ungentle 
horse. I promise thee I will back him or — or — ” 
He did not finish his sentence, and the two went 
out to the inn yard, where stood a horse which 
did not seem to be particularly vicious. And the 
animal was soon in the possession of the spy for 
a very fair sum in exchange. 

“ I will but fix his bridle for thee,” said the man, 
“ while thou payest the reckoning, and then may- 

[ 179 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


est thou ride with speed and safety. I may not 
stay to see thee go, for I must instantly depart.” 

“ Ay, thou hast a hard master, no doubt,” ob- 
served Walter Skinner, with a shake of the head. 

“ Necessity is my master,” said the stranger. 

“ Ay, ay, no doubt,” returned W alter Skinner, 
going toward the bar. “ Necessity is not mine, 
however.” 

A half-hour later, when the spy was ready to 
set out, the stranger had disappeared. But he 
did not miss him, for the landlord himself had 
come out into the yard to see him off, while all 
the grooms stood about, and two or three maids 
looked on. 

“ Good people, give back,” said Walter Skinner, 
grandly. “ Block not the way of the king’s man. 
Ye mean well and kindly, no doubt, but I would 
have ye withdraw yourselves a little space.” 

By the help of a groom he was mounted, and 
a moment later he was out of the inn yard. But 
now a strange thing happened. He was no sooner 
out of the town than the horse refused to be con- 
trolled. In vain the little spy tried to head him 
toward Doncaster. The stranger had removed 

the bit, putting in its place a wisp of straw, 

[ 180 ] 



























. 










A BOY’S RIDE 


which the horse quickly chewed to pieces, and then, 
with a shake of the head, he galloped off to the 
south. 

“Thou beast!” cried the spy. “What mean- 
est thou? Thou art held in by bit and bridle. 
Dost not know it? ” 

It seemed that the horse did not, for he went 
on at a faster pace. 

“ Thou art worse than the prior’s horse! ” cried 
Walter Skinner, dropping the reins and clinging 
round the animal’s neck. “ I would I had the 
stranger that did sell thee to me! I would crack 
his pate also, even as I will the pate of the groom 
at the Green Dragon.” 

Giving no heed to the remonstrances of his rider 
or the unevenness of the road, the horse kept on 
until he entered the gates of Lincoln, and stopped 
before the Swan with a loud and joyous neigh. 

At the sound two grooms ran out. “ Here he 
be!” cried one. “Here be Black Tom that was 
stole but two nights agone,” cried the other; 
while in great amazement Walter Skinner sat 
up and gazed from one to the other. 

“What meanest thou, sirrah?” he demanded 

of the second groom. “ Sayest thou a horse is 

[ 181 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


stolen when I did pay good money for him but 
this morning? And, moreover, who would steal 
such a beast that will mind not the bridle and 
only runs his course the faster for the spur?” 

“ Ay, thou knewest not that he was stolen, no 
doubt,” retorted the second groom, sarcastically. 
“ But here cometh master, who will soon pull thee 
down from thy high perch, thou little minute of 
a dirty man. Thou hast slept in the swamp over 
night, I do be bound, and now comest to brave 
it out, seeing thou canst not make way with the 
horse.” 

“ I would have thee know, villain, that I serve 

the king, and did buy the horse in Gainsborough 

this morn to replace the one which the young lord 

did cut loose. And whether I did sleep in the 

swamp or in a duke’s chamber is naught to thee 

or to thy master. I have been so shaken up this 

morn over thy rough roads and by thy vile beast 

of a horse that thou and thy master shall pay for 

it. What! is the servant of the king to be sent 

into the Isle of Axholme by an idiot groom at the 

Green Dragon? And, being there, is he to be 

planted in the mire like a rush by a Saxon 

serving-man? And is his horse to be cut loose 

[ 182 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


by the young lord at the word of that same Saxon 
serving-man? And is he to be carried behind 
Richard Wood to Gainsborough? And is he there 
to buy a black horse from a vile stranger? And 
is he to be run away with to this place when he 
would fain go elsewhere about his master’s busi- 
ness, which is to catch this young lord and the 
Saxon serving-man? And then is he to be looked 
at as if he were a thief? Thou shalt repent, and 
so I tell thee; yea, in sackcloth and ashes. And 
if thou canst find no sackcloth, then thou shalt 
have a double portion of ashes, ye knaves, and 
so I promise you.” 

At these words the innkeeper and the grooms 
looked at each other. And then the innkeeper 
said civilly that he and the grooms had meant 
no offence, but that the horse had certainly been 
stolen from the Swan two nights before. The 
second groom, equally desirous with his master 
to conciliate, pressed forward to show him how the 
bit had been removed by the rascal who sold the 
horse so that he would come straight home again. 

“ Which I did but now discover,” said the sec- 
ond groom. 

And the first groom, not to be outdone, said: 

[ 183 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


“If thou really seekest the young lord and the 
Saxon serving-man we can put thee on their track, 
for surely they did leave here but some three hours 
agone.” 

Walter Skinner stared stupidly for a moment, 
while the innkeeper reproved the groom for being 
beforehand with him in giving the intelligence. 
Then the little spy sat up straighter and put on 
a haughtier air than ever. “Aha, Fortune!” he 
cried, “ thou art bound to make a duke of me 
whether I will or not.” Then turning to the inn- 
keeper he said: “ I will enter thine inn, and do 
thou see that dinner be promptly served. I will 
then procure a change of raiment. I will then 
sleep over night. I will then breakfast. I will 
then take thy Black Tom, which I did buy, and 
withhold him from me if thou darest. And I will 
then set out after the young lord and the serving- 
man. I have now given thee my confidence, which 
if thou betray thou shalt answer for it. Why, they 
cannot escape me. Hath Richard Wood come 
up with them three several times, as I now have? 
Nay. If he had he would have captured them, 
which showeth that I be the abler man of the 
two; for, while I have not captured them, he hath 

[ 184 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


not even caught sight of them. And now make 
haste with the dinner.” 

All this time the spy had kept his seat on the 
horse. He now came down, and the innkeeper, 
without a word, led the way to a private room, 
while the grooms exchanged glances. “ Yon be a 
madman,” said the first, whose name was Elfric. 

“ Yea, or a drunken man, which is the same 
thing,” responded the second. 

“ He will catch not the young lord,” declared 
Elfric. 

“ I did not dream they fled as they rode down 
the street to the river,” observed the second. 
“ They did go slowly enough, and the young lord 
looked about him curiously and unafraid.” 

“ By that thou mayest know he was a lord, 
and this drunken fool speaketh true,” returned 
Elfric. “ The better the blood, the less of fear; 
so hath my grandsire said.” 

Though Walter Skinner had commanded the 
innkeeper and the grooms to keep what he called 
his confidence on pain of his vengeance, what he 
had said flew abroad. And wherever the little 
spy appeared that afternoon he seemed to arouse 
much curiosity. “ The king must be put to it for 

[ 185 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


help when he employ eth such a one,” commented 
a cooper. 

“ Tut, man!” w r as the reply. “ What careth 
the king who doeth his pleasure so it be done? 
It looketh not like to be done, though, with this 
man for the doer of it. Why, who but a fool 
seeing those he sought had three good hours the 
start of him would give them four and twenty 
more? ” 

The cooper shrugged his shoulders. “ I tell 
thee, Peter of the forge,” he said, “ that I care 
not if the king’s will be never done, for it is a 
bad will. Therefore the more fools like yon he 
setteth to do it the better.” 

Meanwhile the innkeeper was thinking ruefully 
of the guest he had on his hands. “ I may not 
anger him,” he said to Elfric, the groom. 

“ Nor needest thou,” replied Elfric. 

“ Talk not to me,” said the innkeeper, impa- 
tiently. “ Wouldst have me lose Black Tom? 
For whether he did pay the thief for him or not, 
he most certainly did not pay me. And thou 
knowest the value of Black Tom.” 

“ Yea,” answered Elfric, “ I know it. But why 

shouldst thou lose Black Tom? ” 

[ 186 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Why? Art thou gone daft? Didst thou hear 
him bid me refuse him the beast if I dared? This 
it is to have a bad king who will set such knaves 
upon his business.” 

“ If there be but one black horse in Lincoln,” 
replied Elfric, “ thou doest well to fret. But if 
there be Black Dick that is broken-winded and 
hath the spring-halt so that he be not worth more 
than one day’s reckoning at the Swan at the 
most; and if he looketh tolerably fair; and if 
thou mayst buy him for a small sum; and if this 
drunken fool knoweth not one horse from an- 
other; why needst thou worry?” 

The face of the innkeeper at once cleared. 
“ The fraud is justifiable,” he said. “For why 
should he take my Black Tom and give me 
naught? I do but protect myself when I give 
him instead Black Dick.” 

“ Ay, and thou doest no unfriendly turn to the 
young lord neither. I have been to inquire, and 
there be those that say he is son to De Aldithely. 
And doubtless he fleeth away to his brave father 
in France. I did think he had a familiar look this 
morn. And when I heard, I did repent that the 
Swan had put this knave upon his track. But 

[ 187 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


with Black Dick he cometh not up with him in a 
hurry.” 

That night Walter Skinner found the Swan a 
most pleasant abiding-place, where all were at- 
tentive to serve him. “ Thou hast me for thy 
friend,” he told the innkeeper as he supped with 
him. “ Thou hast me, I say, and not Richard 
Wood. And I will speak a good word for thee 
to the king. Not now, indeed, for it were not 
seemly that I should introduce thy matters until 
I had brought mine own to a happy issue. But 
what sayest thou? To pursue a young lord for 
many miles and capture him, — single-handed, — 
were that not worth a dukedom? I have here this 
good yew bow with a silken string and a goodly 
store of arrows. Oh, I will capture him, if ever 
I come up with him. The serving-man cutteth 
not this silken string nor breaketh these arrows, 
I warrant thee.” 

And, clad in his new raiment, Walter Skinner 
sat back in his chair and gazed pompously around. 

The innkeeper listened, and, supper being over, 
he sought Elfric, to whom he related what had 
passed. “ I would not that a hair of the young 

son of De Aldithely should be harmed,” he said. 

[ 188 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ And what I dare not do, that thou must 
perform.” 

“ And what is that? ” asked Elfric. 

“ Thou must fray his bow-string so it will 
not be true, and thou must injure his arrows 
likewise.” 

“ Right willingly will I do so,” promised El- 
fric. “If he hit any mark he aim at when I am 
done with the bow and arrows, then am I as 
great a knave as he. And the damage shall be 
so small that he may not see it neither.” 


[ 189 ] 


CHAPTER XIV 


A LTHOUGH there were those who had looked 
upon Hugo and Humphrey curiously in the 
streets of Lincoln, there were none sufficiently 
interested to observe what direction they took 
after they had left the town. And none saw 
them leave the road and betake themselves to the 
fens as safer for their journey. So east of the 
heights, which, to the east of Lincoln, extend in 
a southeasterly direction, they rode, picking their 
way as they might, and hopeful that now all 
enemies were thrown off their track. 

“ It is a weariness to be pursued so many days,” 
said Hugo. “ I would fain breathe easily once 
more.” 

“ Ay, lad,” returned Humphrey. “ But that is 
what cannot be done in this world. When thou 
art forty years old, as I am, thou wilt see that 
every man hath his enemies and every bird and 
beast also, as we may perchance see in this wild 
fen country. It is good, therefore, to breathe as 

[ 190 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


easily as one can and think no more about it. 
Knowest thou what these fens be like? ” 

“ Nay; but mine uncle hath told me that they 
be vast, and that here and there half -wild people 
live in huts along the reedy shores; and that south 
lieth the goodly town of Peterborough, as well 
as the abbey of Crowland.” 

“ Doth the ring avail at Peterborough? ” 

“ Yea, if I have need; but there will be none.” 
And he glanced with a smile at the heavily loaded 
horses they rode, and bethought himself of his 
plentiful supply of gold pieces. “ What hast thou 
in all these bags and packs, Humphrey? ” he 
asked. 

“ Why, the answer to that question is not so 
simple,” was the reply. “ I did but buy some- 
what of all I saw, and did bestow it the best I 
could, so as to leave room for our legs on the 
sides of the horses. Should the spy pursue us, 
he would soon come up with us, for flee we could 
not, so loaded down. But I look not for him. 
No doubt he still lodgeth in the Isle of Axholme, 
and the other spy we have not of late heard from. 
If we but keep clear of beaten paths, we be safe 
enough. I will hope to have a dream to-night. 

[ 191 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Hugo did not reply; he was looking about him 
in much enjoyment. The day chanced to be clear, 
and as far as he could see lay the level of the 
fen-lands. Here were trees, some straight, others 
leaning over the water ; there were islands of 
reeds, and yonder the water shimmering on its 
shallow, winding way, so sluggish as to be almost 
stagnant. The whole region was alive with sound, 
— the cries of water-fowl, the songs of birds, and 
the croak of frogs. And when he rode along the 
water’s brink, an occasional fin flashed out. Hum- 
phrey watched him with approval. “ Ay, lad,” 
he said, “ thou wilt soon be wise in fen lore, for 
thou hast a heart to it. I will tell thee now that 
I have wherewith to fish in one of these same 
packs. Mine ears were not idle in the town, and 
I did learn that perch and red-eye and roach 
and bream frequent the waters of the fen.” 

“ And didst thou ask what fish were in the 
fen?” asked Hugo, in alarm. 

“ Nay, lad, most surely not. But when I did 
see fish for sale I did praise their beauty, and 
they that had them did of themselves tell me where 
they did catch them. There be more ways of find- 
ing out things than by asking of questions.” 

[ 192 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


They were now come to a small, grassy isle 
fringed with reeds. “ Here do we get down,” 
said Humphrey. “ I would fain see if we do not 
catch some of those same fish for our dinner. 
And here is grass, moreover, where the horses can 
graze.” 

Slowly and carefully boy and man disengaged 
themselves from the baggage that almost encased 
them and dismounted. “If thou dost get a dream 
to-night, Humphrey,” said Hugo, laughingly, “ I 
hope thou wilt discover what we shall do with all 
this stuff.” 

“ I dream not to find out such a thing as that,” 
returned the serving-man, good-naturedly. 

The horses were soon tied out, and the fishing- 
lines and hooks unpacked. Then Humphrey, 
going out on a fallen log which w r as half sub- 
merged, carefully plumbed the water to see how 
deep it was, while Hugo watched him in wonder. 
Next he took from another package some ground 

s 

bait consisting of meal, and balls made of bread 
and grain, worked up in the hand. This he threw 
into the water, which was here but two feet deep. 
Then in a whisper he said, “All this I did learn 
in Lincoln.” And he bade Hugo hold his line 

13 [ 193 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


so that the bait on the hook was about an inch 
from the bottom. 

Hugo obeyed, and in a moment was rewarded 
with a red-eye about a foot long. At the same 
time Humphrey drew out another. And before 
long they had half a dozen each, for the red-eye 
was always sure to be one of a crowd, and it was 
so greedy that it took the bait readily. 

“ No more to-day,” said Humphrey, winding 
up his line, “for we already have more than we 
can eat, and I hold it sin to slay what we cannot 
eat. This was I taught by my grandsire, who 
ever said that evil was sure to befall those who 
did so. And I would we could put the life back 
into half we have taken; but they did bite so 
readily that we had too many suddenly. Still, if 
we eat naught to speak of but fish, we may make 
away with most and so be spared evil.” 

While Humphrey dressed the too numerous fish, 
Hugo sought sufficient fuel to cook them, and 
came back to find the serving-man well satisfied. 
“ Even as I did begin to dress the fish,” he said, 
“ there came a sound of wings, and I looked up 
and did behold a glede. And I did cease to 
move; so came he nearer, and did snatch a fish. 

[ 194 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


Then came another and did snatch a fish. In 
quietness I did wait. Then came the first glede 
back and did take a fish, and the second did like- 
wise. And, by waiting with patience, the gledes 
did take two more. And now we have but six fish, 
and no evil will befall us, for those we can eat.” 

Hugo smiled, for the big serving-man had 
spoken with the faith of a child. 

Their noon rest taken, they went on again 
toward the south and came by nightfall to what 
Humphrey decided to be a suitable place to pass 
the night. “ I mean not,” he said, “ that the place 
would please me were we out of the fen. But 
being in the fen, why, there be worse places than 
this to be found; for it is not a bog nor a slough, 
and there be reeds in plenty near by.” 

“Do we make a fire?” asked Hugo, mindful 
of their experience in the Isle of Axholme. 

“Yea,” answered the serving-man. “If we 
make the fire perchance some evil person seeth 
us, perchance not. If we make not the fire, the 
chill of the fen doth get into our bones. Seest 
thou how the mist arises? And we be not like 
the holy hermits of these haunts to withstand chill 
and vapors.” 


[ 195 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


Hugo looked at him in surprise. “ How know- 
est thou of holy hermits?” he asked. 

“ I did even learn of them in Lincoln. It was 
the canon’s servant who did tell me of St. Guthlac 
and St. Godric. He did know more of the holy 
hermits than of his master’s service, I warrant 
thee. And that is an evil knowledge for a ser- 
vant that bids him talk to the neglect of his mas- 
ter’s good.” 

The fire alight, the two lay down, Hugo to fall 
asleep and Humphrey to rise at intervals through 
the night and throw on reeds that so the fen mists 
might work no harm to the boy, to whom he was 
now as devotedly attached as ever he was to 
Josceline. The morning’s breakfast was from the 
packs which Humphrey acknowledged were too 
full for prudent carrying; and by the time Walter 
Skinner arose at the Swan they were off again, 
still southward. They were now nearer the coast, 
and a great fen eagle flew screaming over their 
heads. “To dream that eagles do fly over your 
head doth betoken evil fortune,” remarked Hum- 
phrey, gravely. “ But I think we need not fear 
those eagles which do not fly in dreams.” 

And now in the yard of the Swan all was astir, 

[ 196 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Elfric had taken Black Dick out and gently ex- 
ercised him so that his spring-halt need not be 
at once apparent, and there was no little anxiety 
on the part of the host to get rid of his guest 
expeditiously. The spy, however, with his usual 
dulness, did not perceive it, but took all this 
effusive service as his rightful due. “ I will re- 
quite thee later, worthy host,” he said grandly. 
“ I will not fail to set thee before the king in the 
light of a trusty innkeeper.” With this farewell 
he rode pompously out of the yard and slowly 
down the hill street to the river, and so passed 
out of the town. And, being out, he paused to 
consider his course. 

“ Shall I go to the fen in pursuit of them, or 
shall I go down Nottingham way? ” he said. “ I 
will go Nottingham way. I will be no more 
planted in mire like a rush. Nay, verily. Not to 
find all the young lords and Saxon serving-men in 
creation. I serve the king; and will go not into 
bogs and fens suitable for Saxon outcasts and no 
others. And if they be wise they will do the 
same.” 

Having come to this decision, he put spurs to 

Black Dick and was off southwest, while slowly 

[ 197 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Hugo and Humphrey journeyed on southeast. 
Presently the horse began to heave. “ Why, 
where is thy speed of yesterday, Black Tom ? ” 
cried Walter Skinner. “ Thou didst not heave 
when I clung round thy neck on the way to Lincoln 
town.” He gave the bridle a sharp jerk, suddenly 
turning the horse which now began to show the 
spring-halt with which he was afflicted. “ Why, 
what sort of a dance is this? ” cried Walter Skinner. 
“ Thou art a strange beast. Verily, thou art like 
some people — one thing yesterday and another 
to-day. I can say this for thee — thou wert black 
yesterday, and thou art still black to-day.” 

He had not gone far when he came up with a 
man riding slowly along, and decided to take him 
into his confidence so far as to ask if he had seen 
those he sought. Accordingly he crowded Black 
Dick close alongside of the stranger’s horse, and, 
giving him a meaning glance, said, “ Hast thou 
seen a young lord this morn? ” 

The stranger looked astonished, as well he might. 

“ Ay,” said Walter Skinner, much gratified. “ I 
said a young lord. Mayhap thou art not used to 
consort with such, but a young lord is not much 
more to me than his Saxon serving-man. And 

[ 198 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


that remindeth me — hast seen the serving-man 
also? ” 

“ Nay,” answered the stranger, mildly. “ I have 
seen neither.” 

“ And that is strange, too,” said Walter Skinner. 
“ Why, bethink thee, man! Thou must have seen 
them. They did leave Lincoln but yester morn. 
And if they came not this way, which way did 
they go? Answer me truly, for I warn thee, I 
serve the king.” 

The stranger reaffirming that he had seen neither 
the young lord nor his serving-man, Walter Skin- 
ner was obliged to be content. “ They be as slip- 
pery as eels,” he cried. “ And that remindeth me, 
I did eat eels for breakfast at the Swan this 
morn.” 

Then, without a word of leave-taking, he rode 
off, Black Dick doing his afflicted best, and W alter 
Skinner wondering how he could have been so mis- 
taken in the animal. “ The thief that stole him did 
well to be rid of him,” he said. “ And that he 
should put him off on me is but another indignity 
I have suffered on this chase. The king hath ever 
a lengthening score to pay, and nothing but a duke- 
dom will content me. And why should I not be a 

1199 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


duke? Let Richard Wood say what he likes, worse 
men than I have been dukes. Ay, and more basely 
born.” 

By noon he had come to Newark. “ And here 
will I pause and search the town for them,” he said. 
“ If they know not of them, why, their ignorance 
is criminal. A loyal subject should know what con- 
cerneth his king. And it concerneth the king that 
these two be found.” 

Now it chanced that the king was then at Newark 
and about to set off for Clips tone Palace. Which, 
when Walter Skinner heard, he declared proudly, 
“ I will have speech of him.” 

“Thou have speech of him!” exclaimed an at- 
tendant. “ Thou art mad.” 

“Nay, verily, I am not mad. Am I not Walter 
Skinner, hired by the king’s minister to bide in a 
high tree that overlooketh De Aldithely castle? I 
tell thee, I will see the king.” And, the party now 
approaching, he broke through all restraint and 
rode close up beside the king. “ May it please thy 
Majesty,” he began, “ there be those that do keep 
me back from speech with thee. Ay, even though 
I do tell them that I serve thee.” 

The king looked at him, laughed rudely, and 

[ 200 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


motioned one of his attendants to remove him. But 
the little man waved the attendant off, and cried out 
so that all might hear, “ Didst not thy minister 
hire me to bide in the tall tree that overlooketh 
De Aldithely Castle? ” 

At the mention of the name De Aldithely the 
king paused, and seemed to listen. Seeing which, 
Walter Skinner went on: “ And, when all the rest 
were gone to York, did I not see the young lord 
and his Saxon serving-man ride forth? And did 

I not give chase? And do I not now seek them 

\ 

on this wind-broken and spring-halt horse as best 
I may? ” 

The king beckoned the little man nearer. 
“ Where hast thou sought?” he asked. 

“ In the wood, in the swamp, and in the town,” 
was the proud answer. “I be not like Richard 
Wood, who did set out to help me. For I have 
come up with them three several times, and he 
not once.” 

The king turned to one of his attendants. 
“ Take thou the madman into custody,” he said. 
“ We will presently send to De Aldithely castle 
to see if these things be so.” 


[ 201 ] 


CHAPTER XV 


R ICHARD WOOD and his men had searched 
the forest of Sherwood thoroughly enough 
to lead them to conclude that those they sought 
had taken another route. And on this, the tenth 
day of his chase, Richard Wood said decidedly: 
“We try the fen now to the east. They be not 
spirits to vanish in the air. Here in this wood 
they are not, nor do I think they would bide in 
any town. Therefore in the fen they must be.” 
Thereupon, leaving the forest, they rode south- 
east by the way of Grantham, and so on into the 
fen country, striking it a few miles from where 
Hugo and Humphrey were making their camp 
for the night, almost within sight of Peterborough. 
The two were quite cheerful, and entirely unsus- 
picious that danger might be nearer to them than 
usual. 

“ Thinkest thou to stop at Peterborough? ” 
asked Humphrey. 

“Nay,” replied Hugo; “there is no need.” 

[ 202 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


And yet,” urged Humphrey, “ a good lodg- 
ing, were it but for one night, were a happy 
change from the fens. Who is the canon that is 
thine uncle’s friend at Peterborough? ” 

“ Canon Thurstan,” replied Hugo. 

“ In the Canon Thurstan’s house — ” began 
Humphrey. 

“ But the canon hath no house,” interrupted 
Hugo, with a smile. 

“ And how is that? ” demanded Humphrey, with 
a puzzled air. 

“ It happeneth because this cathedral is on an- 
other foundation, and the canons here be regular 
and not secular, as they be in Lincoln.” 

Humphrey reflected. “ I understand not,” he 
said at length. 

“ At Peterborough the canons live all together 
in one house,” explained Hugo. “ Were we to 
go there we should be taken to the hospitium, 
where we should be lodged.” 

“ And there see the Canon Thurstan? ” 

“ Yea.” 

Again Humphrey reflected. Then he said: 
“ The ways of priests be many. Mayhap I had 
known more of them, but in my forty years I 

[ 203 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


have had to do with other matters, like serving 
my lord and lady in troublous times. The priest 
at the castle I did know, but not much of the 
ways of priests in priests’ houses. And now com- 
eth the evening mist right early. I will but make 
up the fire and then lead away the horses.” 

The fire made, although it was not dark, Hum- 
phrey departed, leaving Hugo to feed it. This 
the boy did generously, for he felt chilled. The 
smoke did not rise high and the odor of it pene- 
trated to some distance. 

In a little while Humphrey returned laden with 
a new supply of fuel partly green and partly 
dry. He then spread out their evening meal, and 
gave Fleet foot his supper. And, all these things 
accomplished and the supper eaten, he announced 
his intention to go again for fuel. 

“ Have we not here enough? ” asked Hugo. 
“ Thou knowest we journey on in the morning.” 

“ Mayhap,” answered Humphrey. “ I like not 
the look of this mist. My grandsire hath told 
me of a mist that lay like a winding-sheet on 
everything for two days, and this seemeth to me 
to be of that kind. It were not wise to stir, 
mayhap, to-morrow morn.” 

[ 204 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Lest we encounter the other spy? ” laughed 
Hugo. 

“Jest not, dear lad,” replied Humphrey, sob- 
erly. “ We may not know how or whence danger 
cometh.” 

“ And dost thou fear, then? ” asked Hugo. 

“ Nay, I fear not. I cannot say I fear. But 
this moment a feeling hath come to me which I 
had not before. I will away for more fuel.” 

“ I go with thee,” said Hugo. 

“ Ay, lad, come,” was the reply. 

Two trips they made, each time returning heavily 
laden, and then Hugo laughingly said, “ Surely 
we have enough, even if the mist last two days, 
for we had good store before thou didst look 
upon the mist with suspicion.” 

Humphrey smiled. “ Yea, lad,” he answered, 
“ the fuel now seemeth enough.” 

While he spoke a wind sprang up and the mist 
grew lighter. It blew harder, and the mist was 
gone. One might see the stars. Two hours this 
lasted, during which Richard Wood and his men, 
as if guided, rode straight for the small camp, 
picking their way with great good fortune and 
making few missteps. Then the wind died down, 

[ 205 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


the mist came back enfolding everything, and the 
pursuers encamped where they were. But of that 
Hugo and Humphrey knew nothing. 

It might have been two o’clock when the serving- 
man awoke with a shiver and rose to renew the 
fire. He found it quite extinguished. As he felt 
about in the darkness for his flint and steel he 
glanced anxiously toward Hugo, though he could 
not see him. “ I know not,” he muttered, “ I 
know not. But I did dream of eagles and they 
did scream above our heads. Some danger draw- 
eth near, or some heavy trouble.” 

The fire now blazed, and the faithful serving- 
man saw that Hugo was still asleep, resting as 
easily on his couch of reeds as he could have 
done on the canon’s bed. “ It is a good lad,” said 
Humphrey. “ Were he a De Aldithely he could 
not be better.” 

Humphrey lay down no more that night. 
Restlessly he moved about, now replenishing the 
fire, and now listening for some hostile sound. 
But he heard nothing. 

It was late in the morning when Hugo awoke. 
“ Surely this must be thy grandsire’s mist, Hum- 
phrey,” he said. “It is heavy enough.” 

[ 206 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


“ Yea,” answered Humphrey, looking up from 
the breakfast he was preparing. “ It were best 
not to stir abroad to-day.” 

And at that moment Richard Wood was say- 
ing: “ I smell smoke within half a mile of me. 
Ride we to see what that meaneth.” Again, as 
if to aid him, the wind sprang up so that through 
the lifting mist one might easily pick his way, 
and Humphrey had just departed to look after 
the horses when Richard Wood and his men-at- 
arms arrived at the camp. 

“Yield thee, Josceline De Aldithely! ” com- 
manded Richard Wood. “ Yield thee in the king’s 
name! ” and, dismounting, he laid his hand on the 
astonished lad’s arm. 

A little later Humphrey, returning to the camp, 
paused in amazement, for he heard voices. He 
crept around a fringe of reeds and peered, but 
could not see clearly. He advanced further, still 
under cover, and then he saw. 

“ I did dream of eagles,” he muttered, “ and 
they did scream above our heads.” 

He listened, and from what he heard he learned 
that Hugo had not revealed himself as Hugo, 
but that he allowed the spy to think him to be 

[ 207 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


Josceline. “Well did my lady trust in him!” 
exulted Humphrey. “ And my lord shall know 
of this when we be come to France, as we shall 
come, though all the eagles in the fens do scream 
above our heads. And now I will away to the 
Canon Thurstan, and see of what avail is the fish 
on the circlet of gold.” 

Creeping back as silently as he could, he mounted 
his horse and set out for Peterborough. “ May 
the spy and his men-at-arms be too weary to stir 
till I come back,” he said. “ And if they be not 
weary, may the mist come lower down and hold 
them. And now, horse, do thy best. Splash into 
pools, wade, swim, do all but stick fast till we 
come to Peterborough town.” 

The horse, thus urged, did his sagacious best, 
and very shortly the serving-man was knocking 
at the gate of the porter’s lodge. Now Hum- 
phrey knew T nothing of how he ought to proceed. 
He only knew that he was in haste and that his 
need was urgent. He therefore determined to 
employ boldness and assurance, and push his way 
into the canon’s presence. 

“ Canon Thurstan! ” he cried boldly, attempt- 
ing to push past the porter. “ Canon Thurstan, 

and at once! My lord demandeth it.” 

[ 208 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Thou mayest not push in past me thus,” said 
the porter, stopping him. “ Hast thou no token 
to show? ” 

“ Yea, verily,” answered Humphrey, hastily 
taking out his pouch and producing the prior’s 
ring. “ Take this, and bid the canon see me 
instantly.” 

The porter, calling an attendant, sent the 
ring by him. And presently an order came bid- 
ding Humphrey come into the presence of the 
canon. 

“ Where is the prior’s nephew? ” asked the 
canon, with the ring in his hand. 

“ In the custody of knaves who did surprise our 
camp.” 

“ Knaves, sayest thou? ” said the canon. 
“Wherefore hast thou a camp? Wherefore 
lodgest thou not in towns? What doest thou 
wandering through the fens? ” 

“We be pursued,” answered Humphrey. 

“ Pursued? and by whom? Why, who should 
pursue the nephew of Roger Aungerville? ” 

“ It is a king’s man, and he hath with him 
three men-at-arms,” answered Humphrey. 

“A king’s man, sayest thou? Nay, then, I 

14 [ 209 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


meddle not in the king’s matters.” And he made 
as if to hand back the ring. 

“ And wilt thou not, then, aid me to rescue my 
young master? ” 

“ Nay,” answered the canon. “ I may not do 
such a thing except upon compulsion. The dean 
is now absent, and I am in his place.” 

Beside himself with impatience over what seemed 
to him needless delay, and with disappointment 
over what seemed to promise failure altogether, 
Humphrey cried out roughly: “ Compulsion, say- 
est thou ? Then, since ’t is compulsion thou 
lackest, compulsion thou shalt have.” And he 
laid hands on him. 

At this two servants came running in. “Ye 
see,” said the canon, turning to them. “ This is 
the ring of my friend, Roger Aungerville, prior 
of St. Wilfrid’s. It bindeth me to do all in 
reason for his nephew. This is his nephew’s ser- 
vant, who hath come to me to seek my aid to 
rescue his young master from the clutches of a 
king’s man and three men-at-arms. I tell him I 
may not do such a thing except upon compul- 
sion, and he layeth hands upon me.” And he 

smiled upon them whimsically. 

[ 210 ] 


A BOY S BIDE 


They understood the canon and his smile, and 
the first said: “If thou be compelled to aid this 
fellow, were it not best that I call up Herebald 
and Bernulf also? They be two, as thou knowest, 
swift of foot, and long of wind, and strong of 
arm; and they have two good staves, moreover.” 

“ Why,” said the canon, whimsically, “ it were 
doubtless wholly evil that I should undergo com- 
pulsion in mine own domain by a strange serving- 
man, and be compelled to render aid even against 
the king’s men. Still, since I be compelled to 
render aid, it were good to render the best pos- 
sible, and so take with ye Herebald and Bernulf; 
and spare not for blows, so that ye bring off the 
young man safe.” 

Then he handed the prior’s ring to Humphrey, 
who returned it to its pouch with great satisfac- 
tion. “ I will ne’er say aught against a fish,” he 
thought, “ when it surmounteth a circlet of gold 
and doth belong to a prior. Methinks this canon 
liketh not the king nor his men, or he would not 
be so easily compelled to go against them, and 
so all shall yet be well with us.” 

The two servants now withdrew from the canon’s 

presence, taking Humphrey with them, and, call- 

[ 211 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


ing up Herebald and Bernulf, all four made speed 
to depart with the impatient serving-man. 

“If the mist hold, we have them,” said the first 
servant, as he rode beside Humphrey. “ And it 
be heavier now than it was two hours agone.” 

“ Ay, if we lose not our way,” was the response. 

“ That we cannot do with Herebald and Ber- 
nulf,” was the confident answer. “ They were 
born and bred in these fens. And because they 
do hate the king and all his men they will be 
swift on the track this morn. If the king’s man 
come not off with a broken pate, it will be a 
wonder. And the same is like to be the fate of 
the three men-at-arms.” 

The mist held, and, gleaming through it, as 

they neared the camp, they saw the red fire. 

Cautiously they approached. Richard Wood and 

his hungry men-at-arms had been making free 

with the packs so liberally provided by Humphrey 

at Lincoln, and were now resting on the rushes, 

with Hugo in their midst. They were in no 

mood to journey farther in the dimness of the 

mist, and Richard Wood was putting question after 

question to Hugo in the hope of eliciting some 

information which might be valuable to him, while 

[ 212 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

the men-at-arms listened. They were Le Fal- 
coner’s men, and they cared nothing for the fate 
of De Aldithely’s son. 

“ Where hideth away thy mother? ” asked 
Richard Wood. 

“ Even in the tomb,” answered Hugo, truth- 
fully, for his mother was dead. 

For a moment Richard Wood was taken aback. 
“ I had not heard of it,” he said at length. “ I 
knew not that thy mother was dead. The king 
had hoped to capture her also. But it seemeth 
death hath been beforehand with him.” 

And then the four servants of the canon, who 
had surrounded the little group unseen, lifted 
their staves and struck as one man. Over rolled 
Richard Wood and his three men-at-arms, stunned 
and unconscious. Humphrey at once brought up 
Hugo’s horse and Fleetfoot, and the rescuers de- 
parted, leaving the four unconscious men to come 
to themselves at their leisure. 

“ Thou art to return to the hospitium,” said 
the first servant to Humphrey. “It is the canon’s 
order. He will see this nephew of the prior’s 
and inquire more narrowly concerning his jour- 
ney. And say thou naught of this rescue to any 

[ 213 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


man. We four do the canon’s bidding at all 
times, but our tongues wag not of the matter.” 

4 4 When the canon is compelled, thou doest his 
bidding? ” asked Humphrey. 

44 Ay, when he is compelled. Pie hath those of 
his kin who have suffered wrong at the king’s 
hands. Therefore is he often compelled, as thou 
sayest, but he sayeth naught, and so the king 
knoweth naught. May he be long ignorant.” 

The first servant now withdrew himself from 
Humphrey’s side, and in due time, still under 
cover of the friendly mist which spread its cur- 
tain over the streets of the town, the little party 
regained the hospitium unseen. As soon as their 
arrival was known Hugo was summoned to the 
presence of the canon; and the handsome, fearless 
youth, as he entered the room where the canon 
awaited him, seemed to strike his host with 
surprise. 

44 Thou the nephew of Roger Aungerville ! ” 
he exclaimed, when they were alone. 44 Thou 
shouldst be a De Aldithely.” 

44 1 am Hugo Aungerville,” answered the boy. 
And then, drawing nearer, he half whispered 
something further to the canon, who seemed to 
find the explanation satisfactory. 

[ 214 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


14 Why dost thou skulk and hide in this manner 
through the fens?” asked the canon. “And why 
art thou pursued? ” 

44 I personate Josceline, son of Lord De Aldi- 
thely, and so draw pursuit from him. When I am 
come to Lord De Aldithely in France, then I shall 
make myself known, if need be.” 

44 There will be no need,” said the canon, de- 
cidedly. 44 And now, though I am glad to have 
succored the nephew of my friend, the prior, I am 
twice glad to do a service to Lord De Aldithely. 
Thou hast my blessing. Go now to thy rest, even 
though it be day. To-morrow morn I will send 
thee forth, if it seem best.” 


[ 215 ] 


CHAPTER XVI 

T HE king and his party rode on to Clipstone 
Palace. The attendant to whom the spy 
had been consigned hastily summoned a bailiff, to 
whom he made over his charge, and then galloped 
off to overtake the party. And Walter Skinner, 
hardly understanding what had come to pass, was 
left behind in Newark. 

The king had thought to spend a week of 
pleasure at Clipstone, but the intelligence brought 
by the spy changed his plans. Of all his barons 
he hated Lord De Aldithely most. He would 
have struck at him more quickly and forcibly but 
for Lord De Aldithely’s great popularity, and his 
own somewhat cowardly fear. And now here was 
the son escaped. And suddenly the evil temper 
of the king blazed forth so that his attendants, 
in so far as they dared, shrank from him. 

The king waited not to reach Clipstone, but turn- 
ing to two of his attendants he said: “Go thou, 

[ 216 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


De Skirlaw, and thou, De Ivellaw, to De Aldithely 
Castle. Put spurs to your horses and tarry not. 
See what is come to pass and bring me word 
again.” 

De Skirlaw and De Kellaw galloped off; and 
the king, shortly after coming to Clipstone, en- 
tered his private apartments and excluded the 
party from them. 

“ There is treachery somewhere,” he said to him- 
self, aloud, “ and the guilty shall not escape me. 
Why, what is this Josceline but a boy of four- 
teen? And what is his mother but a woman? And 
do they both bid successful defiance to me, the 
king? I will have their castle down over their 
heads, and no counsels shall longer prevent me 
from doing it. Without the boy and his mother 
the father is sure aid to Louis. And where De 
Aldithely goeth, there goeth victory.” 

“ Nay, not alway, my liege,” responded a voice. 

The king started, and turned to see one of his 
courtiers, more bold than the rest, who had quietly 
entered the chamber. 

“ I knew not of thy presence, De Kirkham,” he 
said. “ What sayest thou?” 

“ I say that victory is not alway with De Al- 

[ 217 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


dithely since he is a fugitive and his son a wan- 
derer, and his castle in thy power.” 

“ True. Thou sayest true,” responded the king, 
after a pause. 4 4 Thou dost ever bolster up my 
failing courage. And I will have this silly boy, 
if the madman I did put in custody spake true. 
Yea, I will have him, though I set half England 
on the chase. His father is my enemy. And shall 
the son defy me? I will hale him to a dungeon, 
and so I tell thee, De Ivirkham.” 

It was not a long ride to De Aldithely castle 
for those who need neither skulk nor hide, and 
the messengers of the king were at Selby ere 
nightfall. Here they determined to rest and go 
on the next morning. They heard no news in the 
town; nor did they see anything until they came 
to the castle itself. Birds of prey were screaming 
above the moat near the postern, and there was a 
stillness about the place that would have argued 
desertion if the flag had not still floated from one 
of the towers. 

44 1 like not this stillness,” said De Skirlaw. 

44 It hath a menacing air,” observed De Kellaw. 

A while the two waited in the outskirts of the 

wood near the cleared place about the castle. 

[ 218 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


Then said De Skirlaw, “ I go forward boldly to 
the bridge and summon the warder in the king’s 
name.” 

I go with thee,” agreed De Kellaw. 

So briskly the two rode forth from the shelter 
of the wood and up to the entrance, where De 
Skirlaw loudly wound his horn. But there was no 
response. He wound it again. And still there 
came no answer. 

“ Seest thou no man upon the walls? ” asked De 
Skirlaw, scanning the heights with eyes somewhat 
near-sighted. 

“ I see no one,” responded the hawk-eyed De 
Kellaw. 

“ Let us skirt the castle,” proposed De Skirlaw, 
after a short pause. 

“ I am ready,” responded De Kellaw. 

Then together the two began their tour of ex- 
amination. And the first thing they noted was 
the dam which William Lorimer and his men had 
constructed, and which the old warder had broken 
before he himself wandered forth from the castle, 
thus letting the water which had filled the rear 
part of the moat escape. From this point they 
rode back toward the entrance and, looking down 

[ 219 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


into the moat, saw that it was dry. Turning 
again toward the postern, they noted the draw- 
bridge there, and wondered to see it down. “ The 
postern gate is also ajar,” observed De Kellaw. 
The two now drew nearer and came even to the 
edge of the moat. They looked in, but saw only 
bones and armor; for kites and eagles had been 
at work, and nothing more remained of those who 
had perished there in the waters. 

“ Some strange thing hath happened here, and 
wind of it is not yet gone abroad,” said De 
Skirlaw. 

“Yea,” agreed De Kellaw. “ Darest thou ven- 
ture across this bridge and in at the postern 
gate? ” 

“ I dare,” responded De Skirlaw. Dismount- 
ing, the two secured their horses by stakes driven 
into the earth, and then, on foot, crossed the 
bridge. 

Inside the baileys all was deserted. The stables 
were empty. N o footsteps but their own could 
be heard. No guard paced the walls. No warder 
kept watch. There was only silence and empti- 
ness in the great hall, and no living creature was 
anywhere. 


[ 220 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Here be a mystery,” said De Skirlaw. “ I 
will not be the one to try to unravel it. Let us 
away to the king and say what we have seen.” 

“ Ay, and brave his wrath by so doing,” re- 
turned De Kellaw; “ for, since he cannot lay hands 
on those that have disappointed him, he will lay 
hands on us that bring him word of the matter. 
To be near to the king, if thou be not a liar or 
a cajoler, is to stand in a dangerous place.” 

“Yea,” answered De Skirlaw, “thou art right; 
but we needs must return. So let us set out.” 

While the king raged, Walter Skinner, left 
behind at Newark in charge of the bailiff, had 
speedily recovered his complacency. 

“ I have seen the king and spoken with him,” 
he thought. “ True, he did laugh right insultingly 
in my face, but that may be the way of kings; 
and even so will I laugh in the face of Richard 
Wood when next I see him, for he hath no hope 
of preferment and seeketh only his money reward. 
Therefore is he a base cur and fit only to be 
laughed to scorn.” 

When the scullions served him his dinner in the 

room where he was held prisoner, he looked upon 

them haughtily, and bade them mind what they 

[ 221 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


did and how they did it. “ For I shall not alway 
be served here by such as ye,” he said. 

“ Nay, verily,” replied the first scullion, “ thou say- 
est true. Thou art more like to be served in one 
of the dungeons, if so be thou be served at all.” 

“ Why, what meanest thou by that last, sirrah? ” 
demanded the little man, strutting up and down 
and frowning. 

“ I did but mean that thou mayest shortly 
journey to that land where there is neither eating 
nor drinking,” was the reply. 

“ Thou meanest that I may shortly die? ” asked 
Walter Skinner, contemptuously. 

“ Yea,” was the answer. 

“ Why, so must thou. So must Richard Wood. 
So must the king himself,” said Walter Skinner. 
“ But thou hast learned here so near the court to 
speak Norman fashion, and go round about the 
matter; and so thou speakest of journeys, and 
a land where there is neither eating nor drinking. 
Moreover, thou didst speak of dungeons. I would 
have thee know that they be no fit subjects of 
conversation in my presence. Have I not served 
the king? And shall I not therefore have pre- 
ferment? Speak not of dungeons, and the coun- 

[ 222 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


try where there is neither eating nor drinking to 
me.” And, seating himself, the pompous little 
man began to eat his dinner heartily. When he 
had finished, the first scullion came alone to take 
away the dishes. 

“ Thou art a very big little fool,” he said, with 
a compassionate glance, “ and so I bid thee pre- 
pare thyself for any fate. Thou must know that 
what thou saidst to the king did anger him. Thou 
didst bring him ill news, and the bearer of ill 
news he will punish.” 

Walter Skinner now showed some alarm; but 
he soon recovered himself. “ Why, how now, 
sirrah? ” he said. “ I did not bid the young lord 
Josceline flee; but when he did flee I did give 
chase. And wherefore should I be punished for 
that? Had I remained in the tree near the castle, 
then indeed the kins* had had cause for anger.” 

The scullion still looked at him pityingly. “ By 
thine own showing,” he said, “ thou art but the 
king’s spy, hired by Sir Thomas De Lany, no 
doubt. Spies have not preferment when their task 
is done, because, though the king doth take their 
work, he hateth them that perform it.” 

And now Walter Skinner stared in bewilder- 

[ 223 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

ment. “ Thou art but a scullion,” he said at last. 
“And how knowest thou of Sir Thomas?” 

“ I am not what I seem,” replied the scullion. 
“ Wert thou sound in thy wits I would have said 
naught to thee, because then thou wouldst not 
have been here; but I like not to see one infirm 
of intellect run into calamity.” 

“ And dost thou say of me that I be not 
sound in my wits? ” demanded Walter Skinner, 
indignantly. 

“ Why, thou art either unsound of wit or a 
knave,” was the calm response. “ Only fool or 
knave doeth dirty work for another, even though 
that other be the king. And now, if thou wilt 
escape, I will help thee to it.” 

“ I have had great toils,” said Walter Skinner, 
with a manner which would have been ponderous 
in a man twice his size. “ I have met a hedge- 
hog. I have lost two horses. I have been planted 
in the mire like a rush. I have now come hither 
on a wind-broken and spring-halt horse, for which 
I did pay a price to a thief. And now thou say- 
est that for all this which I have undergone in 
the service of the king I shall have not prefer- 
ment but a dungeon or death.” 

[ 224 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“Yea,” was the calm rejoinder, “ I say it; for 
where is the young lord? Knowest thou? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Walter Skinner, slowly. 

“ That is all that the king careth for of thee. 
That thou hast let him escape thee is all that he 
will note. And thy life will, mayhap, answer for 
it. All will depend on the greatness of his rage.” 

The little man looked in fright at the scullion, 
whom even his inexperienced eyes could now see 
was no scullion as he stood there in dignity await- 
ing the decision of the prisoner. “ I will go with 
thee,” he said, in a tremble. “ But do I go on 
the wind-broken and spring-halt Black Tom of 
Lincoln? ” 

“ That, Black Tom of Lincoln! ” cried the mys- 
terious scullion, laughing. “ Thou hast once more 
been made a fool of. I have many times seen 
Black Tom. But thou shalt not go on the beast 
thou earnest on. I will furnish thee another, for 
it must seem that thou didst escape on foot. Seek 
no more for the young lord. Flee into hiding 
and remain there. Dost thou promise me so to 
do?” 

“ Yea,” was the prompt answer. “ I promise.” 

He in the disguise of the scullion smiled, and 

15 [ 225 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


bidding Walter Skinner follow him, led the way 
by secret passages until they came out unseen 
into a small court, where stood a horse ready 
saddled and bridled. The little man’s guide bade 
him mount, and, opening a small door in the wall, 
motioned him to ride through it and away. 

“My liege, the king,” he said, as he watched 
the spy making all speed on his way, “ thou wilt 
learn nothing of the flight of Josceline De Al- 
dithely from thy late prisoner. And may confu- 
sion wait on all thy plans.” 

Walter Skinner had been gone over night, and 
the second day of his flight was well begun when 
the king, impatient over the slowness of De Skir- 
law and De Kellaw, sent from Clipstone to 
Newark to have the spy brought before him. In 
haste the bailiff went to the room where he had 
placed him, and no prisoner was there. No pris- 
oner was anywhere in the castle or in the town, 
as the frightened officer discovered after a dili- 
gent search. Only the afflicted horse upon which 
he had arrived remained in one of the stables. 
And with this word the unfortunate officer has- 
tened on his way to the king. Near the gate, as 

he went out of Newark, he met one of the cour- 
se] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


tiers, who bore a strong resemblance to him who 
had, in the guise of a scullion, set Walter Skin- 
ner at liberty. “ Thou art frightened, worthy 
bailiff,” he said. “ But do thou only put a brave 
front on it and all may yet go well. Be careful 
to say and ever repeat that the man was mad, 
and not only mad, but cunning, and so hath made 
off, leaving his horse behind him.” 

The bailiff responded with a grateful look. 
“ Thou art ever kind, my lord,” he said. “ And 
mayhap the man is dead. If he knew not the 
way, he may be dead, or caught by robbers. I 
will say that he may be dead also, and I hope he 
may be.” 


[ 227 ] 


CHAPTER XVII 


O N the morning when Hugo and Humphrey 

were to start, the canon summoned them to 

his presence, and his face was grave. “ I have 

but now learned,” he said, “ that the king is at 

Clipstone Palace. When the knaves thou didst 

leave stunned in the fen discover it also, they will 

at once repair thither, and that maketh a new 

complication of troubles. Let us consult together. 

I include the serving-man because he is such a 

valiant compeller.” And the canon, forgetting 

his gravity, laughed heartily. “ I who had but 

to speak and all the monastery was at mine aid 

w r as compelled by this good Humphrey of thine, 

Hugo.” And again he laughed. Then he grew 

grave again. “ Pardon me,” he said to Hugo; 

“ but one may laugh so seldom in these troublous 

times. And erstwhile I was fond of laughing, 

and glad to have a merry heart. Now merry 

hearts be few in England, for they who have not 

already grief, have anxiety and dread for their 

[ 228 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

portion.” He paused and then went on: “The 
same hand that did send me news of the king s 
neighborhood did add something more thereto. 
A fierce little swaggering, strutting man did 
come upon the king at Newark and did tell him 
that J osceline, meaning thee, had fled, and that 
he had been pursuing thee. Didst thou know 
of it?” 

“ Yea,” replied Hugo, with a smile. Then turn- 
ing to the serving-man he said, “ Humphrey, since 
the canon loveth to be merry, tell thou him of the 
hedgehog and the Isle of Axholme.” 

Humphrey did as he was requested, and was 
amply rewarded by the appreciation of his listener. 
“ I see thou art worth a troop, my good Hum- 
phrey,” he said, w T hen the serving-man had finished. 
“ Lady De Aldithely did well to trust thee with 
this lad. But now to my news once more. The 
king, in his wrath, will scour the country round- 
about, and thou mayest not escape from him as 
thou didst from thine other pursuers. What dost 
thou elect to do?” And he looked at Hugo. 

Hugo considered, and as he considered he grew 
pale. “ I know not,” he said at last. “ It seem- 
eth not safe to move.” 


[ 229 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

“ True,” returned the canon. “ Nor is it safe 
to remain here. The king respecteth no religious 
foundation. And when these stunned knaves in 
the fen make report to him, it w 7 ill be known that 
thou wert seen close to Peterborough, and not an 
inch of the town will be left unsearched. I would 
my friend at Newark — but nay, I must not speak 
of that.” 

There w r as a brief silence, and Humphrey’s was 
the most anxious face in the room. Not for him- 
self did he feel anxiety, but for Hugo. If the 
canon hardly knew what to do, how could he hope 
to succeed in protecting the lad? 

The canon was the first to speak. “If it can 
be done,” he said, “ the knaves in the fen must 
be kept from the king. I will have in to our 
conference Herebald and Bernulf.” And rising, 
he summoned them. 

They came in very promptly, and stood with 
cheerful faces before their master. “ I know thee, 
Herebald; I know thee, Bernulf,” said the canon, 
shaking his head at them in pretended reproof. 
“Ye be sad knaves both. What! would ye leave 
the monastery and go forth into the fen on ponies 
and armed with your staves? And w r ould ye seek 

[ 230 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


out once more the knaves ye did stun, and try 
to lead them astray, even down into the Broads? 
And all to keep them from the king? ” 

The two servants grinned. 

“ And would ye make believe to be on the trail 
of Hugo and Humphrey here ? And would ye lead 
them far from the trail? I see that ye would, 
knaves that ye are. I have discovered ye. And 
there is no restraining ye when once ye have set 
your minds upon a thing. Therefore get ye gone 
to the fen. No man can say that I did send ye 
thither. And here be coins for ye both, which, 
no doubt, ye will deserve later, if not now.” 

The two joyfully withdrew and shortly after- 
ward were in the streets of the town jogging 
slowly along as if bent on a most unwelcome 
journey. “See the Saxon sluggards! com- 
mented a bystander. “ Naught do they do but 
eat, unless compelled.” 

But once outside the town, the ponies were 
put to a good pace as the two hastened eagerly 
into the fen to trace, if they might, Bichard 
Wood and his men-at-arms. The camp where 
they had come up with them before was deserted, 
and Herebald and Bernulf now had for their task 

[ 231 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


the discovery of the direction the party had taken. 
Had they not been fen-men they might not have 
succeeded. But by night they felt that they were 
really on their trail. They had passed Peterbor- 
ough and continued on to the south, evidently 
going slowly, as became broken heads; and Here- 
bald and Bernulf came up with them by the side 
of Whittlesea Mere early on the following day. 
As they came into view Richard Wood evidently 
regarded the two Saxons with suspicion; but the 
men-at-arms looked at them with nothing but 
indifference. 

Herebald and Bernulf appeared not to notice; 
but, withdrawing to a little distance, seemed to 
confer together and examine narrowly the leaves 
and twigs and rushes to see if they were bent or 
broken by the passage of a recent traveller. As 
they went earnestly about on all sides of the camp 
at the Mere, and keeping ever in sight of it, the 
curiosity of Richard Wood overcame his suspicion, 
and he beckoned them to approach. His sum- 
mons they at first seemed inclined to disregard, 
but, as he continued beckoning, they at last went 
toward him with apparent reluctance. 

“ What seek ye?” demanded Richard Wood. 

[ 232 ] 





A BOY’S RIDE 


The two Saxons kept silence, but exchanged a 
crafty look, as if to say that they were not to be 
caught so easily. 

“What seek ye?” repeated the spy. 

“Hast thou seen aught of two runaways?” 
asked Herebald, gruffly. “ Even a young lord 
who hath to his serving-man a Saxon? ” 

Then Richard Wood himself looked crafty. He 
did not like finding other pursuers so near him 
who might claim part of the reward, at least, when 
the search was successfully ended. But reflection 
came to his aid and told him that these Saxons 
were ignorant hinds who might be made useful 
on the search, and afterward cheated of their share 
of the reward. So he said, “ Ye be fen-men, I 
know, or ye would not look so narrowly for a 
trail nor would ye find it. Which way do ye 
go?” And he looked at them keenly. 

“ Through the Broads toward Yarmouth,” an- 
swered Herebald, slowly, after a short pause, and 
speaking in a surly tone. 

“And wherefore?” demanded Richard Wood. 

“ There is shipping to be got to France from 
thence, is there not?” 

“ Yea, verily,” cried Richard lYood. “ It had 

[ 233 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


not before entered my mind. Thinkest thou they 
have gone thither? ” , 

Herebald frowned. “ Thou art too ready with 
thy questions,” he growled. “ But this I will say, 
we go thither.” 

“ Then we go with thee,” said Richard Wood, 
firmly. “ The way is open to us as well as to thee, 
and thou mayest not gainsay it.” 

“ Oh, ay,” returned Herebald, indifferently. 

All that day Richard Wood kept a sharp eye 
on his new acquaintances. “ Watch them nar- 
rowly,” he said to his men. “ They will seek to 
make this catch without us and so obtain the re- 
ward. Therefore all that ye see them do, do ye 
likewise, and I will also do the same.” 

Herebald and Bernulf saw and understood, and 
laughed together unseen. “ They have not good 
wit, or they would not be so led by us when we 
be strangers,” observed Herebald. 

“It is ever thus with knaves,” said Bernulf. 
“ Though they seem sharp, there is a place where 
they be dull, and an honest man can often find 
it, and so outwit them.” 

Then they turned back to Richard Wood and 
his companions. “ Go ye slowly and softly,” 

[ 234 J 


A BOY’S BIDE 

— 

growled Herebald. “ Ye go lunging and splash- 
ing so that ye may he heard a long way off. 
Moreover, ye have scared up all the water-fowl 
hereabouts, and they go screaming over our heads. 
What think ye? If there be travellers near will 
they not hide close in the reeds till ye and your 
noise he past? ” 

At this rebuke Richard Wood drew rein sud- 
denly and gazed sharply about him on all sides. 
Then he said, “ Your caution shall be obeyed.” 
And he gave the command to his followers to be 
careful. 

Herebald now returned to the side of Bernulf, 
and the two, gazing with mirthful eyes into each 
other’s faces, separated themselves a little distance 
and pretended to examine the way narrowly. It 
was not for nothing that they had served the 
merry Canon Thurstan for seven years. 

That night, when all the camp was still, Ber- 
nulf slipped quietly forth in the darkness. He 
was gone three hours, and in that time he blazed 
such a trail as a madman might have taken. A 
bit of every fringe of rush or reed he came to he 
broke; and he stamped with his foot in the slimy 
mud on the edges of ponds and pools. “ These 

[ 235 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


fools,” said he, “ know naught of the fens or the 
Broads, and they will believe all that they see; for 
the broken bits and the footprints will speak to 
them of the young lord and his serving-man, and 
they will listen and hasten on. It is easy to lead 
a fool a chase.” 

The next morning Richard W ood was early 
awake, and, while all the rest were apparently 
asleep, he, in his turn, stole forth to look about 
him. “ I trust not these knave Saxons entirely,” 
he said to himself. “ Though we all ride together 
now, they will seek to outwit us at the end, and 
gain the reward for themselves.” 

He had not gone far when he came upon the 
evidences of a recent passage along that way, and, 
in great excitement, he returned to the camp and 
roused up his followers, and, incidentally, the two 
Saxons. “ Lie not here sleeping,” he said, “ when 
we be close on the trail. Let us be off speedily! ” 
His men rose eagerly, and the Saxons also seemed 
to be stirred up at his words. And very soon, 
after half a breakfast, they all mounted and rode 
off, Richard Wood keeping in the advance. Soon 
he struck the trail blazed the night before by 
Bernulf, and eagerly he followed it, though he 

[ 236 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


was obliged to do so slowly; for the trail went 
on ahead for three miles, then doubled, then zig- 
zagged, then went straight east three miles, and 
bent round till it went due west again. 

“ The young lord is lost,” declared Richard 
Wood, positively, “ else would he never ride such 
a crazy track as this.” 

At last, when it was too late to travel further 
that day, the track turned eastward again, and the 
party went into camp for the night about one mile 
from where they had camped the night before. 
But to Richard Wood it seemed that they must 
be at least ten miles advanced on their way, for, 
to him, all the marsh looked the same. 

“Did I not do well, Herebald?” asked Ber- 
nulf. “ Here have we kept them busy in the 
marsh for a whole day, and that giveth the lad 
with the canon so much the better a start.” 

“ Yea,” said Herebald. “ To-night rest thou, 
and I will start the trail for them to-morrow.” 

Accordingly, as soon as the weary Richard 
Wood and his men had sunk into a heavy sleep, 
which they did almost as soon as they lay down, 
Herebald set out. He was extremely swift of 
foot and knew the region well. He was gone 

[ 287 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

four hours. “ The knave king’s man and his fol- 
lowers will sleep soundly to-morrow night also if 
they follow my trail,” he said, when he had re- 
turned and lay down. 

The next morning a late awakening of the men 
gave a late start. The enthusiasm of the day 
before was gone; but it came back when Richard 
Wood, riding in advance, struck the trail once 
more. This was more difficult to follow than the 
one of the day before. It led through places 
where the party almost mired, but not quite ; 
through places where the horses splashed heavily 
along, scaring the water-fowl up in all directions; 
through patches of reeds ; through tangles of 
tough grass ; through shallow water ; through 
deep water; and ever on with few seeming devi- 
ations. But the course was much slower than 
that of the day before, and that had been slow 
enough. 

Night came and the fagged party in disap- 
pointment once more lay down. 

“ Thou hast done well, Herebald,” said Ber- 
nulf. To-night it is my turn. But think ye 
not it were better now to lead straight on to 
Yarmouth? ” 


[ 238 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


‘‘Yea,” answered Herebald. 

‘ It seemeth to me that it were best to put them 
there to search the town. What thinkest thou?” 

“ Even as thou thinkest,” returned Herebald, 
grinning. 

“ And then,” continued Bernulf, “ methinks it 
would be seemly to entice them aboard a fishing- 
vessel and ship them off for France, and so be 
rid of them.” 

“Yea,” agreed Herebald. “ I would all the 
knaves in England were shipped off to France, 
and it were a good beginning to ship these four.” 

Another morning dawned, and slowly and heav- 
ily the men arose. Such weary days followed by 
nights spent in the marsh had sapped their energy. 
For the first time the men-at-arms looked sullen, 
and one went to Richard Wood and spoke for all. 
“We be neither fish nor water-fowl,” he said, “ to 
spend our days in the marsh. We go this one 
day more with thee; then, if we come not out of 
the marsh and into the town of Yarmouth, we 
leave thee and return to our master.” 

The heavy-eyed Richard Wood counselled pa- 
tience. “ Would ye have these Saxon knaves 
get the better of us just when the quarry is all 

[ 239 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


but run to earth? They be not so weary as 
we, and a plague upon their endurance. If ye 
stand not by me, the game is lost.” 

But the man-at-arms answered sullenly: “I 
have said. Lead us out of this vile marsh.” 


[ 240 ] 


CHAPTER XVIII 


<fi A XD now,” said the canon, when Herebald 
and Bernulf had gone, “ thou mayest re- 
main no longer here. It is too near the king, 
and moreover, delay taketh thee not forward 
toward France. Since thou knowest not what to 
do, Hugo, I will plan for thee. And first, thou 
must leave here with me thy dog, Fleet foot.” 

Hugo opened his mouth to object, seeing which 
the canon at once continued, “ Nay, do not speak. 
It must be done. Thee I can disguise and thy 
man Humphrey I can disguise, but what disguise 
availeth for thy dog? To take Fleetfoot is to 
endanger thy life unnecessarily. Shouldst thou 
take him, even if thou didst win safely through, 
which is a very doubtful thing, thou wouldst find 
him but an unwelcome encumbrance to Lord De 
Aldithely. Leave the dog, therefore, with me, and 
I will care for him.” 

Hugo reflected. Then he looked up into the 

canon’s face, and he saw that, though he might 
16 [ 241 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


have a merry heart, he had also a determined will. 
He yielded, therefore, and consented to leave 
Fleetfoot behind. At this decision the canon 
smiled well satisfied, and Humphrey’s face also 
showed the relief he felt at being rid of the dog’s 
company. 

“ And next,” continued the canon, “ I counsel 
thee to go no more through the fens, for there 
will they seek for thee. Thou hast gone skulking 
and hiding so far on thy course, and they that 
pursue thee will be too dull to think that thou 
mayest change. The time is come for thee to 
proceed boldly and on the highway. I will send 
thee first to Oundle, which lieth southwest from 
hence, and with a token I will procure thee safe 
lodging there. From thence I can do no more 
lor thee till thou come to St. Albans, twenty miles 
away from London. But from Oundle thou must 
take thy course still southwest till thou come to the 
Watling Street. Then follow that southeast down 
to St. Albans. And in this jaunt Humphrey 
must lead, and thou must follow \ for X shall make 
of Humphrey a priest, and of thee a novice.” 

He ceased, and there was no reply to what he 
had said. Both Hugo and Humphrey would have 

[ 242 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


preferred to ride clad as they were, and to choose 
their own route and stopping-places. But they 
were sensible of how much they already owed the 
canon, and dangers were now so thick about them 
that they feared to refuse to do as he bade them. 
Therefore they permitted themselves to be prop- 
erly robed, and took meekly the instructions he 
gave them as to their speech and manner of be- 
haviour. “ This I do not for thee only, but for 
my friend, Roger Aungerville, and for the brave 
Lord De Aldithely,” he said in parting from them. 
“ Forget not to call me to their minds when thou 
dost meet them, and say that I be ever ready to 
serve them as best I may.” 

Hugo promised, and thanked the canon on the 
part of himself and Humphrey for the cheer and 
aid they had received at his hands; and, with a 
heavy heart, rode away behind the serving-man, 
who was now turned into a priest. He thought 
not on the dangers of the way, but on Fleetfoot, 
left at Peterborough. 

“ Fret not, dear lad,” said Humphrey. “ In the 
king’s dungeon there would be no room for Fleet- 
foot, and mayhap he would be put to death. Now 
is he in good hands, even in the merry-hearted 

[ 243 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


canon’s hands, and no evil will befall him. He 
hath such a care to please thine uncle and my lord 
that he will look well to thy dog.” 

By nightfall the two were safely lodged at 
Oundle. 

“ Ye be safe,” said the priest of the parish when 
he had received them. “ Here will no man seek 
for ye this night, and, on the morrow, ye shall 
speed away. I may not suffer ye to tarry longer.” 

Meanwhile the unlucky bailiff had proceeded to 
Clipstone with the news that Walter Skinner was 
fled, and no man knew what had become of him. 
He had just delivered it and the king was still 
in his rage when De Skirlaw and De Kellaw ar- 
rived. “ Admit them,” he gave order. “ I will 
hear what hath come to pass there. Mayhap the 
castle hath stolen away, even as this prisoner hath 
done.” 

As De Skirlaw and De Kellaw entered, the 
king, scanning their faces, read that they bore him 
no welcome news, and his rage broke out afresh. 
“ What land is this that I be king of?” he ex- 
claimed. A land of rebels and disobedience. A 
land of dull skies and duller fortunes. What saw 

ye that ye come before me with glum faces and 

[ 244 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


serious looks? Speak, if ye can. Is the castle 
gone? ” 

Nay, \ our Majesty,” said De Skirlaw. “ The 
castle we found, but — ” 

“ Ye mean that the prisoner spake true,” burst 
out the king, “ and that the young lord is 
escaped? ” 

“ Yea,” answered De Skirlaw. “ No human 
being inhabiteth the castle. And in the moat at 
the rear kites and eagles have fed.” 

“ What mean ye? What hath chanced there? ” 

“ Your Majesty, no man knoweth,” was the an- 
swer. “ But there be only bones and armor in the 
dry moat, and no living thing in the castle.” 

For a little the king stared straight before him. 
Then he said, “ Bring the rascal bailiff before me.” 

With haste the unhappy officer was brought. 

“ Wretch! ” broke out the king. “ Go find me 
the prisoner that thou hast let escape thee. If 
thou find him not, thy life shall answer for it.” 
In great fear the bailiff retired from the royal 
presence, and the king went on as if to himself: 
“ Mayhap he knew what hath chanced. Mayhap 
he knoweth now the whereabouts of the young 
lord.” 


H 245 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


As the bailiff reentered Newark he met again 
the courtier by the gate. “ What news, worthy 
bailiff? ” he asked. 

“ Why, this,” answered the bailiff, in despair. 
“ The prisoner must be found or my life is for- 
feit. And I know not where to look.” 

The courtier kept silence for a few moments. 
“ The prisoner must not be found,” he thought, 
“ or mayhap the young lord, Josceline De Aldi- 
thely, will be undone; and for the friendship I 
do bear his father, this may not be. But neither 
must the worthy bailiff die.” Then he spoke. 

“ Worthy bailiff,” he said, “ what is done can- 
not be undone. The prisoner is gone, no man 
knoweth whither. Thy only hope is in flight. 
And to that, seeing thou art a worthy man, I will 
help thee. Go thou apparently to seek for the 
prisoner, but flee for thy life, and tell me not 
where. Thou knowest a place of safety, I war- 
rant thee.” 

Yea,” replied the bailiff, after a little thought, 
“ I know.” 

Proceed, then, with thine helpers to the search 
for the prisoner; contrive shortly to give them 
the slip, and thou art saved. I will do what I 

[246 ] 


can 


A BOY’S BIDE 


in baffling* pursuit of thee. For this our king is, 
as thou knowest, a tyrant who, though he greatly 
feareth death for himself, doth not hesitate to 
measure it out to us his subjects. Therefore are 
we bound to help each other. WFen thou canst 
protect another, do so; and so farewell.” Speak- 
ing in these general terms he not only gained 
from the bailiff a belief in his own benevolence, 
but effectually concealed from him the real reason 
of his helping him, which was to protect, so far 
as possible, the young Josceline De Aldithely. 

‘'It is well for a lad when his father hath many 
friends,” mused the courtier. “ For then, even the 
malice and hatred of the king may be foiled. I 
will now away to Clipstone and see what passeth 
there.” And, summoning two attendants, he set 
out. 

Upon arriving, he found but a gloomy air about 
the place. The king’s rage was not yet spent and 
no man knew upon whom he would take occasion 
to visit his displeasure. But the courtier who, in 
the guise of a scullion, had himself set the prisoner 
free, moved calmly about, and alone of all seemed 
to feel no anxiety. Toward nightfall the word was 
whispered about that, on the morrow, the king 

[ 247 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 

would himself proceed with a party to De Aldi- 
thely castle. 

The morrow came and at an early hour there 
was everywhere bustle and confusion, for all that 
the royal party w r ould need for their brief ab- 
sence from Clipstone must be taken with them: 
food, dishes, bedding, and servants. 

At length all was ready and the train set out. 
It was a gloomy ride, for the king’s temper was not 
yet recovered and no man ventured to say aught in 
his presence. 

Leaving the baggage and servants far in the 
rear, the impatient king with his attendants rode on 

and on until they came to Cawood castle beyond 

% 

Selby and but a few miles distant from De Aldi- 
thely castle. Here the king stopped for the night, 
and the servants and baggage not having yet come 
up, his temper was not improved by the lack of 
their service. It was a great castle to which he 
had come, being one of the largest and strongest 
in the north of England. 

“ And Cawood shall have no more for a neigh- 
bor the castle of De Aldithely,” said the king the 
next morning, when, after a somewhat uncomfort- 
able night owing to the late arrival of the servants, 

[ 248 ] 











• I 


















































































































A BOY’S RIDE 


he rode forth from its gate on his way to the home 
of the great and popular baron. 

Artisans from Selby who had been sent by the 
king’s order, were already on their way thither also. 
And these having risen very early and made good 
speed, John found already arrived when he himself 
appeared. But no one had ventured to set foot 
within the walls without the royal word. 

As J ohn drew near, he looked upon the castle in 
scowling silence. Still in silence he rode to the 
edge of the moat and looked down. And there he 
saw the armor and the bones as De Skirlaw had 
said. An attendant now spoke to him, and he 
nodded his head in assent. At once three of the 
artisans were hurried across the postern bridge and 
through the gate with instructions to hasten to the 
front entrance and let down the bridge and open 
the great gate for the king. 

Still speaking no word the monarch rode to the 
great gate, crossed the bridge, and entered, and 
once within the outer bailey, looked about him. 
He rode into the inner bailey, and, dismounting, 
began a personal examination of the castle; and 
as he proceeded his frown grew blacker and 
blacker, for everywhere he saw evidences of pre- 

[ 249 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 

meditated and deliberate flight. The treasure 
chests were empty, and everything of value 
removed. 

At last he spoke. “ What hath chanced here 
I know not,” he said. “ But this I know, these 
traitor walls shall stand no longer. Bid the arti- 
sans in to begin their destruction.” Then turning 
to De Skirlaw he added: “ Go thou to the moat 
and examine the armor. See, if thou canst, to 
what troop it belongeth.” 

But before De Skirlaw could execute this com- 
mission there appeared upon the scene two men- 
at-arms from Hubert le Falconer, in search of 
certain of their companions, and they were at 
once brought before the king. To him they re- 
lated how, for a certain sum, a certain knight in 
the service of the king had hired them to assist 
him in entering the castle, through the treachery 
of one Robert Sadler, and in carrying off the 
young lord, Josceline De Aldithely, to the direct 
custody of the king. 

“And this knight was — ” interrupted John. 

“ Sir Thomas De Lany,” said the man-at-arms. 

“Came thy companions to the castle here?” 
demanded the king. 

[ 250 ] 




A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Yea, Your Majesty, some ten days now agone. 
My master having need of them hath sent us to 
call them to him again.” 

‘‘It is a call they will not answer,” said John. 
“ Nor will the brave knight, Sir Thomas De Lany, 
answer to my call. De Kirkham, take these men- 
at-arms to view the moat by the postern. Now 
know we who sleep there. Could we but know 
the whereabouts of the wife of this traitor, De 
Aldithely, and the whereabouts of his son, we 
were better satisfied. And now depart we from 
this place. Raze the walls. Let not one stone 
remain upon another. 

“ And thou, De Skirlaw, and thou, De Kellaw, 
haste ye both to Newark and see if the rascal 
bailiff hath yet found the prisoner. He can speak 
if he will, and he must be found.” 

With feigned zeal the two set out, but, once 
beyond the view of the king, their fiery pace 
lagged to a slow one as they rode toward Selby, 
where they were determined to halt for a night’s 
rest. “ I care not if the prisoner be not found,” 
said De Kellaw. “ I be tired of this tyranny; 
this imprisoning and slaying of children taken as 
hostages from their fathers; this razing of castles. 

[ 251 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


John will not be king forever, and it behooveth 
us not to make ourselves odious to all men by 
helping him to his desires too much. I haste not 
on this enterprise, and so I tell thee.” 

“Nor I neither,” declared De Skirlaw. 

The king now set out on his return to Cawood, 
from whence, on the morrow, he would go on to 
Clipstone again. 

“ Yea, and I will go even to Newark,” he said 
to himself as he rode along. “ I will be at hand 
to put heart into this search, which seemeth to 
lag. But have the prisoner I will; and when I 
have found him, I will open his mouth for him 
to some purpose.” 


[ 252 ] 




CHAPTER XIX 


the great joy of Richard Wood, the way 
seemed to lead across the wide, flat, marshy 
country straight in the direction of Yarmouth. 
“If the young lord and his serving-man be as 
weary of the marsh as I and my companions be,” 
he said, “ they have gone directly out of it to 
Yarmouth, and there shall we catch them.” 

But though the way seemed not to deviate in 
direction, that of the day before was easy in 
comparison with it. 

“ Were I but journeying through this vile 
stretch of country I could pick a better course,” 
grumbled Richard Wood as he went forward. 
“ But being on chase of these two, I must even 
be content to follow. Behold me now when the 
day is but half gone, slopped with water and 
besplashed with mud till no man may know the 
color of my garments. It must be that the young 
lord hath small wit to take such a course. Or 
mayhap he looketh more behind him than before 
as he rideth, fearing pursuit.” 

[ 253 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


And now they were come to the Yare; and it 
seemed that they would be obliged to swim across 
it. “ Never swam I in my life,” declared Richard 
Wood, “ and I will not now begin.” 

“ Canst thou not swim on thy horse’s back? ” 
demanded one of the men-at-arms, impatiently. 

“Ay; but how if the beast goeth down in the 
stream? ” said Richard Wood. “ I tell thee, I 
fear water.” 

Then came one of the Saxons to the rescue. 
“ Near here dwelleth a fen-man,” he said, “ and he 
hath a boat. I will e’en call him to take thee 
over, and thou canst let thy horse swim.” 

Upon hearing this all three of the weary men- 
at-arms clamored for places in the boat which 
Herebald, after a conference with Bernulf, prom- 
ised them. 

“ Hearest thou not, Herebald,” said Bernulf, 
“that the king’s man feareth the water? We 
must put him and his men across softly and bol- 
ster up their valor, else shall we fail to entice 
them aboard the fishing-vessel, and so fail to 
ship them off to France; and thus England is so 
much the worse off by having still here the vile 
knaves.” 


[ 254 ] 


A BOY’S HIDE 


“ Yea, Bernulf, thou art right,” was the an- 
swer. 44 And surely we have led them through 
toils enough, for they be weary to fainting. This 
it is for a vile spy to go round the country with 
some lumbering men-at-arms, seeking to entrap a 
poor young lad to his destruction.” 

“Yea,” replied Bernulf; “but thou hast left 
out one thing. Thou shouldst have said, 4 This 
it is when two Saxons get him and them in the 
toils.’ They had not been one-half so weary with- 
out us. Do but remember that.” 

“ Ay,” agreed Herebald. 44 I do think we have 
some blame for their aching bones; but they can 
rest when they be tossing on that good old North 
Sea, for I promise them it will take more than 
a load of herring to hold the ship steady.” 

All this time Bichard Wood and his men were 
impatiently waiting. “Why tarry ye so long?” 
called the spy in a loud voice, as he looked in 
their direction. 

“We did but talk of what ’t were best to do 
and a few other matters,” replied Herebald, ad- 
vancing. 44 And we think we may promise places 
to ye all in the boat. Bun, Bernulf; make speed 
and bring the man and his boat. 

[ 255 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Away went Bernulf, leaping 1 lightly across a 
pool here, picking his way skilfully over long grass 
and among reeds there, to the amazement of 
Richard Wood, who watched. “ I would my 
horse had but the nimbleness and speed of the 
knave’s legs,” he said. “ Rut our toils be almost 
over, and so I complain not. I make no doubt 
we lay hold of the young lord and the serving- 
man in Yarmouth.” 

At this Herebald looked sceptical. 

“What meanest thou by that look?” asked 
Richard Wood. 

“ Why, nothing,” returned Herebald. “ Only 
I did call to mind that there be many fishing- 
vessels in the harbor.” 

“And what hath that to do with it?” asked 
Richard Wood. 

“ And through the North Sea one may go to 
France.” 

“ Why, thou didst say that long ago when we 
were toiling through the marsh. Thinkest thou 
I shall forget to search the ships when I have 
searched the town? I forget not so easily, I 
promise thee.” 

The fen-man seemed not to be readily persuaded 

[ 256 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


to bring his boat, for an hour elapsed before he 
was seen rowing toward them with Bernulf loll- 
ing lazily in the stern. 

At last he reached the little party, and Richard 
Wood and his men were safely embarked. Then 
the two Saxons, mounting their ponies, directed 
them into the stream, and they were off, the fen- 
man glancing curiously every now and then at 
his passengers. He made no remarks, however, 
but managed his boat so skilfully that Richard 
Wood hardly realized that he was on the water, 
and, in due time, found himself set ashore with 
his men on the other side. 

“ And yonder be Yarmouth,” said Herebald, 
cheerfully. “We come to it surely by set of sun.” 

There w r as no more marks of passage before 
them, and Richard Wood, picking his own path, 
travelled more easily than he had before, and had 
also to help him an enlarged appreciation of his 
own powers, to which he speedily added a large 
increase of hope that now the end of his troubles 
had come. He therefore went forward with re- 
newed animation, and when, at set of sun, he 
stopped before a little Yarmouth inn, he was well 
satisfied with himself. 


17 


[257] 


A BOY’S BIDE 

“ Do ye also lodge here? ” he asked the Saxons. 

Herebald affected to be uncertain. 

“ Surely it were better that ye do so,” urged 
Bichard Wood, “that we may search the town 
and the ships together on the morrow.” 

“ Nay,” put in Bernulf. “ We lodge not here. 
I do know a cheaper place; and we be not Nor- 
mans that we have money to waste.” 

Bichard Wood frowned. “ Speak not against 
the Normans,” he said. “ The king is a Norman.” 

“ Oh, ay,” answered Bernulf, indifferently. And 
then he added with determination in his tone, “We 
lodge not here.” 

Herebald now drew Bichard Wood aside. 

“ Heed him not,” he said, “ lest he turn surly on 
our hands and get us into trouble. I will go with 
him elsewhere to lodge, and to-morrow morn will 
I bring him back to help thee on thy search.” 

“ Thou art not so sad a knave as he,” returned 
Bichard Wood, “ and I thank thee. See that ye 
both come, and that right early.” 

Herebald reiterated his promise to do so, and 
then went away with Bernulf, while Bichard 
Wood followed his men into the bar, where they 
were already drinking. 

[ 258 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


What meanest thou, Bernulf? Why wouldst 
thou not lodge here? ” asked Herebald as they 
rode along. 

“ Why, this, Herebald,” was the answer. “We 
have much to do ere we go to rest. We must 
find the ship that is loaded and ready to weigh 
anchor to-morrow toward noon when the wind and 
tide will serve. And we must bespeak the help 
of the captain to get these knaves aboard.” 

“ True, Bernulf,” responded Herebald. “ Thou 
hast a wit that would match with the canon’s.” 

“ Yea, I be not so dull as some Normans, though 
I be counted but a slow-witted Saxon,” returned 
Bernulf, with complacency. “ And now let us first 
to our supper and the putting away of the ponies, 
and then do we take boat and visit the ships.” 

They found an inn suited to their tastes in one 
of the Rows, and before the dark had really come 
down over the harbor they were out on a tour of 
the ships. The tour, however, was destined to be 
a short one, since the second ship they visited 
proved to have among her sailors two men that 
they knew. And, moreover, they discovered the 
captain to be one Eric, whose mother was cousin 
to Bernulf’s father. 


[ 259 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Here have we luck,” said Bernulf. “ To Eric 
may I speak freely.” 

“Yea, verily,” answered Herebald. “And she 
is loaded with herring also and saileth on the 
morrow toward noon. Go, then, and speak freely, 
as thou sayest.” 

Bernulf did so; and the Captain Eric entered 
heartily into his plans as Bernulf laid them before 
him. “The loons!” he exclaimed with a hearty 
laugh, as he heard of the journey through the 
fens. “The witless geese! And thou hast not 
once told them that the young lord and his 
serving-man came in this direction? ” 

“ Nay, not once. We did but break branches, 
and make tracks on the edges of the pools, and 
ruffle the long grass, and they did read for them- 
selves that those they sought were just ahead 
of them. We have hope that the young lord 
be, by this time, well and safely sped on his 
journey.” 

“ Ay, and by to-morrow at this time will his 

pursuers be upon their journey,” said Eric. “ I 

am to refuse to let them come aboard, sayest 

thou, until they demand permission in the king’s 

name? And then the moment they be down the 

[ 260 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


companionway I am to hoist the anchor and be 
off?” 

‘‘Yea,” answered Bernulf, “that is it.” 

“ So be it,” returned Eric. “ And it is a small 
thing to do for a kinsman also moreover.” 

“ And now go we ashore,” said Bernulf. “ To- 
morrow morn we aid the king’s spy to search the 
town. He will have a merry run up and down 
the Rows, he and his men.” And, with a hearty 
farewell to the skipper, Herebald and Bernulf 
climbed down the side of the vessel to their little 
boat gently rocking alongside. 

“ The business in hand hath an early end when 
luck goeth with a man,” observed Bernulf, with 
satisfaction. 

“ Yea,” responded Herebald. “ And luck most 
often goeth with the man that hath good wit of 
his own.” 

Their strong arms made light of the short dis- 
tance they had to row, and they were soon back 
at the little inn and at rest. 

As for Richard Wood, weary as he was, he was 

long in finding sleep. For ever he would be 

wondering in which part of the little town it were 

best to begin the search. And how it were best 

[261 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


to conduct it so that no outsider could manage 
to claim part of the reward when the runaways 
were captured. At last, undecided, he fell asleep, 
and Herebald and Bernulf were awaiting him 
when he awoke rather late in the morning. In 
haste he and his men ate their breakfast, and in 
still greater haste they set off on the search, only 
to be brought to a standstill before it was well 
begun; for there fronting the sea were one hun- 
dred and forty-five little narrow streets called the 
Rows, and their combined length made a distance 
of seven miles. 

“ This be a foolish way to build a town,” 
grumbled Richard Wood, “ and none but Saxons 
would have done it. Why, here be a street only 
two feet wide at one end of it. And up and 
down one hundred and forty-five streets we must 
chase, to say nothing of looking in the better parts 
of the town.” 

“ Thou hast well said,” observed Herebald, 
gravely. “It is not an easy thing, this search. 
But where dost thou begin? And how wilt thou 
go about it?” 

4 Why, why,” stammered Richard Wood, “ I did 

never search a town before, and that is but the truth.” 

[*262 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Were it not best to proceed boldly?” asked 
Herebald, slyly. 

“ Boldly, sayest thou? And what meanest thou 
by boldly? ” 

“ Why, by boldly, I mean boldly. Surely thou 
knowest w T hat boldly is? Walk into the house 
with a ‘ by your leave,’ which is, after all, no leave, 
since it is done without leave; there look through 
all, and then out and away again into the next 
house, or the next but one, as it pleaseth thee.” 

Richard Wood looked at him in displeasure. 
“ It is easy to see thou art but a Saxon churl,” 
he said. “ And moreover, where is thy sense of 
time? This day were gone; ay, and the next be- 
fore w T e had entered every house in one hundred 
and forty-five little streets.” 

“ Ay, thou art right. Perchance it were better 
not to take so much time, for there be the ships, 
and some of them do sail to-day.” 

“ To-day! ” exclaimed Richard Wood, in alarm. 
“ And when? ” 

“ Toward noon,” was the reply; “ for then wind 
and tide will serve.” 

A look of resolution came over the face of 
Richard Wood. He turned to his men-at-arms. 

[ 263 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Take each of thee a street,” he said, “ and I 
will take another. Search as well and thoroughly 
as ye can for one hour, and then come to this 
point to go with me to the ships. We have had 
many toils to catch them. They must not escape 
us now.” 

“ And what do we?” asked Herebald. 

Now Bichard Wood was quite determined that 
the Saxons should not share in the reward, so he 
answered: “ Stand ye here, and watch all who 
pass. Let none escape ye.” 

“ That were an easy task,” growled Bernulf. 
“But why may we not also take each man his 
street, and knock and ‘ by-your-leave ’ with the 
rest of ye? It is because we be Saxons that ye 
put this slight upon us.” And he affected to be 
greatly displeased. 

“ Peace, man! ” said Bichard Wood, more pacifi- 
cally. “It is true ye be Saxons, but that is by 
the will of heaven. And ve be in nowise to blame 
therefor. So should ye bear with patience the lot 
of Saxons.” 

“ Which is to wait on Normans, as ye would 
say,” retorted Bernulf, scornfully. “ But we bide 
here, as thou hast said.” 

[ 264 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ The hinds be jealous,” said Richard Wood, as 
he hastened up the little street he had chosen, 
looking narrowly about him for the house, in his 
judgment, most likely to be the hiding-place of 
the runaways. About half-way up the street he 
espied it, but when, in the king’s name, he en- 
tered, he found nothing to reward him for his 
pains. Wherever he stopped he fared no better, 
and he was fain to believe, at last, the assevera- 
tions of the inhabitants that there w T ere not only 
no runaways in that street, but that none were 
to be found in all Y armouth, — a town which, 
according to them, was a most proper place, where 
those who could not give a good account of them- 
selves never ventured. Unless, indeed, it might 
be a few Frenchmen now and then, and, as they 
told him with much garrulity, every Englishman 
knew what to expect from the French. And then 
they asked him if those he sought were French. 
And when he said that they were not, they began 
at the beginning and went all over the subject 
again, telling him what a discreet and proper place 
Yarmouth was, and how none such as he was 
seeking ever ventured there, until he was like to 
go distracted, and had not completed the search 

[ 265 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


of even that one little Row when the hour was up, 
and he hastened to the place appointed to meet 
his men-at-arms. He found that his experience 
had been theirs, and, in his disappointment and dis- 
gust, he said some harsh things about Yarmouth 
tongues, which he estimated as entirely too nimble. 

The two Saxons heard his comments with covert 
smiles, and followed along toward the ships. 

That morning the ship of Eric had slightly 
changed her position, and Bernulf so managed 
that, when the small row-boat he was bidden to 
hire was about to put off from land, Eric’s ship 
would naturally be the first one boarded. 

“Do we go with thee?” asked Herebald. 

“ Nay,” answered Richard Wood. “ Here be 
two men who will row for us. Do ye stay where 
ye be and watch.” 

Then they all climbed into the small row-boat 
and were pulled away toward Eric’s ship. 

“ Ay, we will watch,” said Herebald to Bernulf. 

A little later the boat went alongside, and the 
spy and his men-at-arms climbed heavily and clum- 
sily aboard, after a brief parley with skipper Eric, 
in which he had at first refused them permission 
to do so. 


[ 266 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ They be here! ” exulted Richard Wood in his 
thought, “ else why should w r e be forbidden to 
come aboard? ” 

“ What seek ye? ” demanded the skipper, in a 
gruff tone when they were safely on deck. 

“ Two runaways,” answered Richard Wood, 
loudly, for already the anchor was being lifted. 

“ There be no runaways here,” returned the 
skipper, positively. 

“We will see, we will see,” returned Richard 
Wood. And laying firm hold of the rail he 
lunged down the steep companionway, followed 
by his men-at-arms and one of the seamen, whom 
the captain by a nod of his head bade to follow 
them. Once down, they gazed about them and 
knew not which way to turn. 

“ Where is the captain? ” said Richard Wood, 
sternly. “ Bid him come down and show us all 
parts of the ship at once.” 

“ Skipper may not come. He is busy,” an- 
swered the seaman. “ But I can show thee. Thou 
wilt see all? ” 

“ Yea, all.” 

Then the seaman very obligingly began to do 
as he was bid. There was very little to see in 

[267 3 


A BOY’S RIDE 

the close quarters; but he, being loquacious, was 
a long time in showing it, and more than half an 
hour had elapsed before Richard Wood was thor- 
oughly persuaded that there was nobody secreted 
on board. And all this time, in his eagerness, he 
had not noticed that the ship was moving. He 
now turned to the companionway. 

“ What motion is this? ” he asked, turning pale. 
“ Hath the ship gone adrift from her moorings? ” 

44 Nay,” answered the seaman; “the ship is not 
gone adrift.” 

Laying fast hold on the rail, the spy managed 
to climb up to the deck. He looked about him, 
but no row-boat was alongside. He then turned 
to the skipper. 

44 Surely we be gone adrift from our moorings,” 
he said. 

44 Nay,” answered the skipper, calmly. “ I did 
forbid thee to come aboard, but thou wouldst 
come. Now are we under sail.” 


CHAPTER XX 



HE priest of the parish at Oundle had Hugo 


A and Humphrey up and off betimes the next 
morning, as he had said. “ It must be he liketh 
not our company over well,” observed Humphrey, 
as they jogged on after a very brief and hasty 
leave-taking. 

“ Perhaps he taketh thee for a wolf in sheep’s 
clothing,” said Hugo, with a meaning glance at 
the priest’s habit in which the stalwart Humphrey 
was engulfed. 

“ And thee for the cub, dear lad,” retorted 

Humphrey. “But it may be after all that he 

looketh but to his own safety, and desireth not to 

fall into disgrace with the king by harboring us. 

But hark! Let us withdraw ourselves into the 

wood. Here come travellers this wav. And I 

%/ 

cannot feel safe in the priest's garb. The wood, 
methinks, were a better protection.” 

With the celerity of practice the two concealed 
themselves in the wood in such a position that 


[ 269 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

they could see the path. And presently there 
came into view a small party of knights on their 
way northward. 

“ They look not so dangerous,” commented 
Hugo. 

“ Nay,” agreed Humphrey. “ I would liefer 
see them than king’s spies. But bide we here a 
bit and see if more will come.” 

It was very still in the wood that morning and 
a little sound seemed a great one. So the two, 
while they waited, talked together in low tones. 
“ The merry-hearted canon is in most things wise, 
I do suppose,” observed Humphrey. “ But I feel 
not like a priest though I wear his garb. And 
I fear to do something which will betray me to 
be but the Saxon serving-man which I am. Still, 
I must wear it? ” And he looked inquiringly at 
Hugo. 

“Yea,” replied the boy. “ The land is so full 
of priests that few scan them closely. And, more- 
over, there be Saxons among them. He was born 
but a Saxon serf who was the great pope 
Adrian IV.” 

“ Sayest thou so? ” said Humphrey. “ I will e’en 
take courage and wear the priest’s garb as well 

[ 270 ] 



'“ST 





A BOY’S RIDE 


as I can. I suppose thou knowest all this from 
thine uncle, the prior? ” 

“Yea,” answered Hugo, with a smile. 

A while there was silence, while both listened. 
Then Humphrey said, “ But I like not the canon’s 
plan that we go to St. Albans.” 

“ And wherefore? ” asked Hugo. 

“ That I cannot tell. I do but know that I like 
it not. It were better to go straight to London. 
So think I, and so do I say.” 

Hugo reflected. He knew that the way was not 
particularly safe for them anywhere. “If it should 
be discovered that we have been at Peterborough,” 
he said at length. 

“Yea, lad,” broke in Humphrey. “I had not 
thought of that. But would they not straight seek 
for us at St. Albans, where the merry-hearted 
canon hath sent us? And neither did I like the 
parish priest at Oundle. He did speed us too 
gladly. And he knoweth that we go to St. 
Albans.” 

“ Thou mayest be right, Humphrey,” said Hugo. 
“ It will doubtless cost the monks at St. Albans 
small grief if they do not see us. We will go to 
London as thou sayest.” 

[ 271 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Humphrey regarded him approvingly. “It is 
easy to see that thou art far from being a fool,” 
he said. “ Hiding and skulking through wood 
and fen are making thee wary.” 

The two now resumed their journey, and Hum- 
phrey asked, “ Hast ever been on this Watling 
Street? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. “ I was bred up, as 
thou knowest, by mine uncle, the prior, and all my 
travels have been by ear. What I did hear him 
speak of I know, but not much else.” 

“ And he did never speak of the Watling 
Street? ” 

“Yea, he hath oft spoken of it. But it is a 
long road, and here in England since the time of 
the Romans. I know that it goeth to London.” 

“ Then we go to St. Albans after all? ” 

“ Why, St. Albans lieth on the Watling Street, 
So said the Canon Thurstan. But we need not 
stop long there.” 

“ Unless we be stopped,” said Humphrey. “ I 
would we need not go nigh the place.” He now 
halted and looked about him carefully. “ Said 
the priest at Oundle where we should first come 
to the Watling Street?” he asked. 

[ 272 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Nay,” replied Hugo. “ He did say only, 4 Go 
till thou come to it,’ even as the Canon Thurstan 
said.” 

44 1 hope we be on the right way,” observed 
Humphrey. 44 1 would fain find not only the 
Watling Street, but a town and an inn also. For 
the breakfast of the priest at Oundle was more 
of a fast than a feast.” 

They were now traversing an undulating coun- 
try and going in a southerly direction. 

44 We may not ask our way,” said Humphrey, 
decidedly. 44 It is as much as I can do to wear 
the priest’s garb and speak when I be spoken to. 
Were I to speak of myself, it would speedily be 
known that I was no priest, for I have not the 
mind of a priest.” 

Hugo smiled. He had already learned that, 
although one might turn the mind of Humphrey 
for a little from its accustomed track, yet it 
speedily turned back. He had taken a little cour- 
age at the mention of the Saxon pope, Adrian IV, 
but now he was as fearful as ever. 

44 1 wear this garb only till we be through Lon- 
don,” resumed Humphrey. 44 The Canon Thurs- 
tan bid me wear it only so far. He said naught 

18 [ 273 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 

of what should be done later. And once we leave 
London I will be again Humphrey the serving- 
man, and no make-believe priest. I like not make- 
believes.” 

Hugo smiled again. “ How likest thou my 
being a make-believe Josceline, and no Hugo? ” 
he asked. 

“ That be a different matter,” was the decided 
answer. “ Thou hast saved our young lord’s life, 
and thou art a brave lad. But I would rather 
skulk and hide in the fen than in the priest’s garb. 
How likest thou to be a novice? ” 

“ Why, very well,” replied Hugo, “ so that it 
serve my turn and help me on my way in safety. 
I should have been a true novice had I heeded 
my uncle. But, as thou knowest, I will be a 
knight.” 

“ Ay, and a bold one thou wilt be,” was the 
response; “ as bold as our lord who is in France.” 

All day they held slowly on their way, and, 
though they frequently met other travellers, they 
attracted no more attention than an occasional 
curious glance. And toward sundown they came 
to the town of Dunstable. 

Now,” cried Humphrey, joyfully, “here be a 

[ 274 ] 


66 


A BOY’S RIDE 


town. Let us make haste to enter before the 
curfew and find an inn. We have had a long 
fast.” 

“ Shall we not rather go to the priory?” asked 
Hugo. 

“ Nay, verily,” answered Humphrey. “ I go 
to no priory to-night. I will go to an inn, and 
I will have there a mighty supper, and a good 
bed, and no priestly duties to perform. I know 
not how to perform them if I would. And I 
proclaim to no man that we be counterfeits. And 
moreover, the priests here may be even as the 
parish priest of Oundle. Mayhap he will not set 
the pursuers on our track, but I trust him not. 
I trust no man who sendeth forth travellers with 
such a breakfast.” So saying, he rode boldly down 
the main street which he had entered till he came 
to where it intersected another main street at right 
angles. There he stopped. “ Here be inns in 
plenty,” he said. “ It must be this town is on 
the Watling Street.” And he questioned the 
groom who came to take their tired horses. 

“ Yea,” answered the groom. “ This be the town 
of Dunstable. And here it is that the Watling 
Street crosseth the Icknield Street.” 

[ 275 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Pax vobiscum ,” said Humphrey. “ I will in 
to the fire and my aupper. Do thou care well for 
the beasts.” And, followed by Hugo, he strode 
off with a gait which was not often seen on a 
priest. 

The inn which Humphrey had chosen displayed 
the sign of the Shorn Lamb, and was one of the 
smallest in the neighborhood; it made its patrons 
at home in its large kitchen while they waited for 
the meal to be served. There was but one other 
guest in the room when Hugo and Humphrey 
entered, and the moment the faithful serving-man 
saw him he was grateful for his priest’s garb; for 
the fierce little man who was giving orders in a 
peremptory manner was none other than Walter 
Skinner. 

In great fear he had fled from Newark at the 
instance of the courtier, but his courage, after 
three days of wandering, had returned to him; 
for his hope of one day being a duke died hard. 
“ Though I be the king’s spy no longer,” he had 
said to himself, “ I have been the king’s spy. 
Therefore I have had a certain measure of prefer- 
ment and may hope for more.” And in this humor 
he had come into Dunstable by way of the Ick- 

[ 276 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


nield Street, and by chance had chosen the very 
inn Humphrey had selected. That he had fled 
from Newark and was no longer in pursuit of 
them Humphrey did not know; and he, accord- 
ingly, withdrew deeper into the concealment of his 
hood, while Hugo did the same. 

As for Walter Skinner, he looked at them with 
contempt. “ Here cometh a beggarly priest and 
a novice,” he thought, “ to keep company at the 
table with me. I will none of it.” And he said 
haughtily to the innkeeper: “ Worthy host, I have 
no liking to priests. Seat them not at the table 
with me. Give me thy company, if it please thee, 
but serve the priest and his novice elsewhere.” 

The innkeeper happened to be in a surly humor. 
Certain affairs had gone contrary and vexed him. 
Therefore he made answer: “ I keep but one table. 
There may ye all feed or ye may look elsewhere. 
There be other inns.” And he added slowly and 
impressively, “ They — be — all — full — also.’ 

“Why, here be a circumstance!” cried Walter 
Skinner. “ The inns of this town be full, sayest 
thou? Why, all the inns in London be not full, 
I warrant thee. And why should they be full here 
in this bit of a town, with one street running this 

[ 277 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


way, and one another way, like a cross? I would 
have thee to know that I have been servant to the 
king, and am used to be served accordingly.” 

“And what service hast thou done the king?” 
demanded the surly innkeeper, unbelievingly. 

“ I did watch from the top of the high tree the 
De Aldithely castle,” was the boastingly given 
answer. “ I did see the young lord and his serving- 
man flee through the postern and enter the wood.” 
He was about to rehearse all the particulars of 
his pursuit of the runaways when the innkeeper 
interrupted him. 

“ Thou must, then,” said he, “ be the spy for 
whom the king is looking, and I will give thee to 
him.” 

“Nay, nay,” said Walter Skinner, his fierceness 
all gone as he suddenly remembered the warning 
given him in Newark by the courtier who had set 
him free. “ That thou mayest not do. I do 
journey toward the south. Thou mayest not 
delay me.” 

“ I could if I would,” returned the innkeeper, 
his surly mood vanishing as he saw before him 
the opportunity of enjoying himself by torment- 
ing somebody. “ But thou art such a sprat of a 

[ 278 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


man that my compassion forbids me. The king 
looketh for thee to hear thee tell what thou know- 
est of the whereabouts of the young lord and his 
companion. If thou canst not tell, he will have 
thy head; so hath he sworn. For he is in an evil 
rage, and heads are as nothing to him when he 
rageth, as thou knowest. He searcheth also for 
the bailiff who had thee in charge and let thee 
escape. I warrant thee the bailiff hath a wit 
too sound to go proclaiming how he was some 
great man, even a bailiff in the town of 
Newark.” 

All this was lost on Walter Skinner, however, 
who grasped but one thought, that he was in 
danger, and had but one anxiety, how to escape 
it. He turned now with some degree of humility 
to Humphrey. 

“ What! ” said the innkeeper. “ Dost thou turn 
to the beggarly priest whom thou erstwhile didst 
despise? But it shall not avail thee. It is with 
me that thou must deal. Knowest thou that I 
might lose my head for harboring thee, if I give 
thee not up? But I will hide thee, my little 
sprat, so that the king himself would not know 
thee. Come with me.” 


[279 J 


A BOY’S BIDE 


The little spy, his importance all gone, did as 
the burly innkeeper bade him, and Hugo and 
Humphrey were left alone in the kitchen with the 
servants. 

“What do we?” asked Humphrey, in a low 
tone. “Flee?” 

“ Nay,” replied Hugo. “ That were to invite 
pursuit.” 

“ This innkeeper is a knave,” said Humphrey. 

“ The more reason for caution,” answered 
Hugo. 

“ I have heard that some priests be great sleepers 
and great eaters,” said Humphrey a few moments 
later. 

“ Some priests be,” agreed Hugo. 

“ Then I be one of them. I do now drowse in 
my chair, and naught but the call to supper shall 
awake me. And then will I play so busily with 
my food that no words can escape me save pace 
v obis cum. This rascal innkeeper learns naught 
of me.” 

Presently back came the innkeeper with Walter 
Skinner in his turn playing scullion. “ Here, sir 
priest,” cried the innkeeper. “ Here is he who 

shall serve thee at thy meal.” 

[ 280 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


But there was no response. The priest’s head 
was sunk on his breast, and he seemed asleep. His 
novice also appeared to sleep. 

The innkeeper, emboldened, now gazed openly 
and curiously at the two. “ They have not come 
far,” he said to himself. “ Their garments be not 
travel-stained enough for that. They be some 
dullards of small wit on their first journey, for 
the groom did say they knew not that this was 
Dunstable.” 

His observations were here cut short by the 
appearance of three other travellers; but their en- 
trance failed to arouse the priest and his novice, 
who remained, as before, apparently asleep. 

“Yea, verily,” thought the innkeeper, as he 
slowly advanced to meet the newcomers, “ they be 
but two dullards. There is neither game nor gain 
to be made of them as there is of this Walter 
Skinner, from whom I will take his horse before 
I let him go. I will e’en bid priest and novice 
pack to make room for these newcomers, from 
whom I may win something, and to save room for 
others who may come.” 

Accordingly he set to work, but it was with 

great difficulty that he roused the two. 

[ 281 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Pact ? vobiscum ,” murmured Humphrey, sleep- 
ily. “ Is the supper ready? ” 

“Yea, but at some other inn,” returned the inn- 
keeper. “ Here be three worthy people just come 
in. There is not room for them and ye. The 
groom bringeth your horses, and ye must go.” 

Without a word of objection Hugo and Hum- 
phrey rose to do the innkeeper’s bidding and de- 
part. But they walked like men half awake, and 
followed the innkeeper stumblingly; and mounted 
their horses clumsily, to the great merriment of 
the groom. It was now dark, and they knew not 
which way to turn. “ I choose not another inn,” 
said Humphrey, “ though we bide supperless in 
the streets.” 

“ Then choose I,” returned Hugo. And he rode 
off down the street with Humphrey close beside him. 

“ Lad, lad! ” cried the serving -man, “ thou must 
not lead. It will betray us.” 

At once Hugo fell behind, and the two rode on 
until, at a little inn called the Blue Bell, the boy 
bade the serving-man stop. The two alighted, 
gave their horses to the groom, went in, were 
promptly served a good supper, and, in due time, 

were shown to their beds. 

[ 282 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ There be dangers on the Watling Street as 
well as in the fen,” said Humphrey. 

In the meanwhile the keeper of the Shorn Lamb 
was having his enjoyment at the expense of Walter 
Skinner. He bade him serve the three strangers 
and fear nothing, as no one would recognize him 
in the guise of a scullion. 

“ Why, here didst thou come strutting it finely,” 
said the innkeeper, in a mocking tone. “ And dost 
thou strut now? Nay, verily; but thou art as 
meek as any whipped cock. And since it was by 
thy strut that men did recognize thee, how shall 
they make thee out when thy fine strut is gone? 
Wherefore serve the strangers, and be not afraid.” 

In spite of this exhortation the manner of 
Walter Skinner still betrayed doubt, and even 
timidity. And at last he made the innkeeper un- 
derstand that it was he whom he feared and not 
the strangers. 

The innkeeper laughed. “Dost fear me?” he 
said. “ Why, thou needst not — that is, thou 
needst not if thou observest my conditions. Thou 
hast a horse that thou needest not, since thou hast 
legs of thine own. Somewhat short they be, and 
somewhat stiff in the joints, being more made to 

[ 283 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


stmt with than for the common gait of mankind. 
Still I doubt not they will carry thee whither thou 
wouldst go after I have dismissed thee. Serve 
the strangers, therefore, and afterward thou shalt 
sup.” 

In great meekness Walter Skinner obeyed, and 
the innkeeper, observing him, sat down later with 
satisfaction to his own meal. 

Now it chanced that the strangers had ordered 
liquor, and Walter Skinner paused in the bring- 
ing of it long enough to take a drink of it and 
fill up the measure again with water. And in a 
few moments his fears were gone. He surrepti- 
tiously drank again, and yet again, for the 
strangers were convivial. And, by the time they 
were served and his task done, he had forgotten 
his danger and remembered only the injustice of 
the innkeeper. 

“What!” he said to himself. “Here be a 
degradation! Here be a putting of fine metal to 
base uses! I who have been servant to the king 
am made a scullion to travelling strangers who be 
drunken, moreover, and fit only to be served by 
this rascal innkeeper who hath made a scullion of 
me. And shall he have my horse also? Nay, he 

[ 284 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


shall not. I will away to the stables this moment 
and set out and gain my liberty.” 

Nobody noticed him as he went out the kitchen 
door, and nobody saw him as he entered the stable 
and prepared his horse for the journey. And, still 
unnoticed, he mounted, after many a crazy lurch, 
and set off down the street. In due time he came 
to the gate, and the watchman challenged him. 

“Dost stop me, sirrah!” demanded the half- 
drunken Walter Skinner. “ I be the servant of 
the king; and, moreover, I be but just come from 
the inn of the Shorn Lamb. Pass me outside the 
walls.” 

The watchman, at the mention of the Shorn 
Lamb, made haste to lead the horse through the 
narrow side gate, for he and the innkeeper were 
confederates in villany; and away went Walter 
Skinner at a great pace toward London. 


[ 285 ] 


CHAPTER XXI 


K NOWING nothing of the escape of their 
old enemy, Hugo and Humphrey arose the 
next morning and, after paying their reckoning, 
departed without having incurred the suspicion of 
any one in the town. 

“ This cometh of leaving the inn of the Shorn 
Lamb in good season,” observed Humphrey, with 
satisfaction. 

“ I did think we were put out of the inn,” said 
Hugo, demurely. 

“Ay, lad,” agreed Humphrey; “thou art right. 
If all who go to the Shorn Lamb were thus put 
out, and so did leave in good season, there would 
be fewer lambs abroad without their fleece. Didst 
see Walter Skinner in the guise of the scullion? ” 
“ Yea,” answered Hugo. 

“If I be so good a priest as he is a scullion, I 

fear detection from no man. Why, he doth look 

to be a good scullion, whereas when he is clad as 

the king’s spy, he looketh a very poor spy; ^nd 

[ 286 ] 


A BOY'S RIDE 


he doth act the part moreover very lamentably. 
We had come badly off had he been as good a spy 
as he is a scullion.” 

“ Ay, and had he been less drunken,” said Hugo. 

“ Thou hast well said, lad,” agreed Humphrey. 
“ Let a man that would have ill success in what 
he undertaketh but befuddle his wit with drink, 
and ill success he will have, and that in good 
measure. And the scorn and contempt of his fel- 
lows, moreover, even as hath this little spy.” 

“ And yet,” observed Hugo, thoughtfully, “ it 
were hard to find a man who is not at some time 
drunken.” 

“ Hadst thou that from thine uncle, the prior? ” 
asked Humphrey, quickly. “ Or didst thou gain 
it from thine own very ancient experience? ” 

“ Now I have angered thee,” said Hugo, frankly. 

“ Yea, lad, thou hast. This is a time of great 
drinking, that I know; but never have I seen my 
lord drunken. And never hath any man seen me 
drunken, nor my father, nor my grandsire. There 
be ever enough sober ones in the worst of times to 
keep the world right side uppermost. And that 
thou wilt find when thou hast lived to be forty 
years old. But thou art but fourteen, and I am 

[ 287 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


foolish to be angered with thee for what is, after 
all, but lack of experience. How soon come we 
to this St. Albans? ” 

“ Why, it is but thirteen miles from Dunstable,” 
answered Hugo, pleasantly. 

“ Then may we pass it by without stopping,” 
cried Humphrey, joyfully. “And how much far- 
ther on lieth London? ” 

“ Twenty miles,” replied Hugo. 

“ Then do we rest in London to-night, if we 
may,” said Humphrey. “ Our horses be not of 
the best, but neither are they of the worst; and 
it were an ill beast that could not go thirty-three 
miles before sunset on the Watling Street.” 

“ Ay,” agreed Hugo. “ But we may not ride 
too fast, else shall we arouse wonder.” 

Humphrey sighed. “ Thou art right, lad,” he 
said. “ And w r onder might lead to questions, and 
questions to a stopping of our journey. For how 
know I what answer to make to questions that I 
be not looking for? I will therefore go more 
slowly.” 

The road was now by no means empty of pas- 
sengers. Trains of packhorses were going down 

to London. And just as they reached St. Albans 

[ 288 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


came a nobleman with his retinue, going down to 
his town house in London. “So might my lord 
ride, but for the wicked king,” said Humphrey, 
in a low tone, as they stood aside. Then passing 
into the city of St. Albans, they at once sought 
an inn and made the early hour suit them for 
dinner that so they might journey on the sooner. 

They had entered St. Albans in the rear of the 
nobleman’s party. They passed out of it an hour 
later unnoticed in a throng of people. “ And 
now,” said Humphrey, looking back at the town 
on the slope, “ let the priest at Oundle play us 
false if he like; we be safely through the town.” 

“ It was near here that the Saxon pope, Adrian 
IV, was born,” observed Hugo. 

“ Ay, lad,” answered Humphrey, indifferently. 
“ But I be nearing the place where I be a priest 
no longer. If we may not make too much haste, 
let us turn aside in the wood and find a hut where 
they will take us in for the night, and where, 
perchance, I may get a dream. ’T is a mighty 
place, this London, and I would fain see what 
’t were best to do.” 

Hugo made no objection, and when they were 
within ten miles of the great city they turned their 

19 [ 289 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


horses to the left and sought shelter in Epping 
Forest. 

“ I like the wood,” observed Humphrey, with 
satisfaction. “ It seemeth a safer place than the 
Watling Street; for who knoweth w T hat rascals 
ride thereon, and who be no more what they seem 
than we be ourselves?” 

“ Why, so they be no worse than we, we need 
not fear,” returned Hugo, with a smile. 

But Humphrey was not to be convinced. “ I 
be forty years old,” he said, “ and what be safer 
than a tree but many trees? And the grass is 
under foot, and the sky above, and naught worse 
than robbers and wardens to be feared in the 
wood.” 

Hugo laughed. “ And what worse than robbers 
on the Watling Street? ” he asked. 

“ King’s men, lad, king’s men. A good honest 
robber of the woods will take but thy purse or 
other goods; but the king’s man will take thee, 
and the king will take, perchance, thy life. I 
like not the Watling Street, nor care to see it 
more.” 

They were now going slowly through the wood 
in a bridle-path, one behind the other. Presently 

[ 290 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


they came out into a glade, and across it, peep- 
ing from amid the trees, they descried a hut. 
“ That be our inn for the night, if they will 
take us,” said Humphrey, decisively. And, cross- 
ing the glade, he rode boldly up to the door and 
knocked. 

The hut was very small and was made of wattle 
and daub. A faint line of smoke was coming 
from a hole in the roof. The knock with the end 
of Humphrey’s stick was a vigorous one. Never- 
theless it went so long without answer that he 
knocked again, and this time with better success. 
The door opened slowly a little way, and through 
the aperture thus made an old and withered face 
looked out. 

“ What wilt thou? ” asked a cracked, high voice. 

“ Entrance and shelter for the night,” replied 
Humphrey, promptly and concisely. 

The door opened a little wider and the man 
within stepping outside, his person was revealed. 
He was of medium height and spare, and he wore 
a long gray tunic of wool reaching to his knees. 
Beneath this garment his lean legs were bare, 
while on his feet he wore shoes of skin which 
reached to the ankle, and which were secured by 

[ 291 ] 


A BOY'S RIDE 


thongs. Such as he Hugo and Humphrey had 
often seen, but never before a face like his, in which 
craftiness and credulity were strangely mingled. 
For several minutes he stood there, first scrutiniz- 
ing Humphrey and then Hugo. 

At last Humphrey grew impatient. <£ Do we 
come in, or do we stay out? ” he demanded. 

“ Why, that I hardly know,” was the slow an- 
swer. “ There be many rogues about; some in 
priests’ robes and some not.” 

“ Yea, verily,” responded Humphrey, fervently; 
“ but we be not of the number. Fax vobiscum ,” 
he added, hastily. “ I had well nigh forgot that,” 
he said in an aside to Hugo. 

But the old man’s ears were keen, and he caught 
the aside meant for Hugo’s ears alone. “ Thou 
be but a sorry priest to forget thy pax vobiscum ,” 
he said with a crafty look. “ Perchance thou art 
no priest,” he added, coming closer and peering 
into Humphrey’s face. 

He looked so long that Humphrey again grew 
impatient. “ What seest thou on my face?” he 
asked. 

“ Why, I do see a mole on thy nose. It is a 
very small one, and of scant size, but because 

[ 292 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


thou hast it thou mayest come down from thy 
horse, thou and the lad with thee, and I will give 
thee lodging for the night.” 

Instinctively Humphrey raised his hand and 
touched a tiny mole on the side and near the end 
of his nose. The man of the hut watched him. 
“ I see thou knowest that a mole near the end of 
the nose is lucky,” he said. 

‘‘Not I,” declared Humphrey. “ I had not 
before heard of such a thing.” 

The man of the hut regarded him pityingly. 
Then he said: “ Come down from thy horse, thou 
unwitting lucky one, and come thou and the lad 
within while I do hide thy horses in a thick, for 
I w T ould share thy luck. Dost not know that to 
show kindness to a lucky one is to share his for- 
tune? Thou hadst not come within the hut but 
for thy mole, I warrant thee. For I do know that 
thou art the false priest and the young lord from 
Oundle that stopped not at St. Albans as ye were 
bid.” 

Hugo and Humphrey looked at each other. 
Then Humphrey said, “ I know not, after all, 
whether to come in or not.” 

“ Come in! come in! ” cried the old man, eagerly. 

[293 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ I must share thy luck, and that could I not do 
if I played thee false. Come in!” 

Still hesitating, Humphrey glanced about him. 
He knew not who might be on his track. And 
then he decided to go in. 

“No matter who knocketh while I be gone,” 
said the old man, earnestly, “ give heed to none. 
Only when I come and knock four times: one for 
thee, one time for the lad, and two times for the 
two horses, which signifieth that I know ye; listen 
close. And when I say ‘ mole,’ open the door softly 
and not over wide.” 

Humphrey, who with Hugo was now within the 
hut, promised to obey, and the old man, closing 
the door after him, departed with the horses. 

At once Humphrey put out the smoking embers 
of the fire burning on the earthen floor in the 
centre of the hut. “ If any knock and see the 
smoke and hear no answer, will they not break in 
the door? ” he said. 

The old man had been gone but a short time 
when a tramp of horses was heard. The riders 
paused before the door of the hut as Humphrey 
had done, and one of them knocked heavily upon 
it with his stick. But there was no answer. 

[ 294 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Again there came a knock and a cry, “ Open, old 
Bartlemy! ” 

Meanwhile, old Bartlemy had come creeping 
cautiously back, and from behind a screen of 
vines which hung from an oak beheld them. 
“ Ay, ye may knock and cry,” he muttered craft- 
ily; “but which one of ye hath a mole near the 
end of his nose? Not one of ye. Therefore I will 
have none of ye. And ye may be gone.” 

“ The old rascal grow^eth deaf,” said one of the 
riders. 

“ Nay,” answered the second. “ There cometh 
no smoke out of the roof. He is doubtless from 
home for the night.” 

Old Bartlemy hastily glanced tow r ard the roof 
of the hut. He had left a smouldering fire, and 
now no fire was there. “ The false priest hath put 
it out,” he said joyfully. “Now know I that he 
hath luck with him, and I will serve him faith- 
fully. Ay, knock!” he continued. “Knock thy 
fill. I did but now hear thee call me 4 old rascal,’ 
though I have helped thee to thy desires many 
times, for which thou didst pay me by ever threat- 
ening to bring the ranger upon me for the game 
I take to keep me alive. Thou wantest naught 

[ 295 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


of old Bartlemy but to further thine own 
schemes.” 

There was silence a moment, and then the first 
speaker said, “ The priest of Oundle hath cheaply 
bought his altar cloth if we find not these two. 
We know they be between St. Albans and Lon- 
don. And we do know they be, for the present, 
gone from the Watling Street, for the carter from 
London whom we did meet did tell us that he 
had met them not on the way. Therefore go thou 
to London by way of the Ermine Street, while 
I go down by the Watling Street. They may 
be now straying about in the wood, but we shall 
have them on one road or the other as they go 
into the city. The false priest rideth a gray, and 
the young lord a black. We shall have them with- 
out Bartlemy ’s aid, fear not.” 

Then the riders withdrew, each going his way, 
and Bartlemy a few moments later knocked on 
the door of the hut and was admitted by Hum- 
phrey. At once the old man made up the fire 
in the centre of the hut again. 

“ What doest thou? ” demanded Humphrey. 
“Wouldst have other visitors?” 

“ Do not thou fear,” responded Bartlemy. “ Am 

[ 296 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


I not here? And can I not hide thee and the lad 
beneath yon heap of rushes if a stranger come? 
No man will look for thee here. They that seek 
thee think that Bartlemy will aid them; and so 
he would but for thy mole. I be an old man, and 
never yet hath fortune come my way, and all be- 
cause I did not before meet thee. For it hath 
been foretold me that a man having a mole near 
the end of his nose would bring me fortune. 
Wherefore I cleave to thee, and will protect thee 
with my life, if need be.” So saying, he threw 
another fagot on the fire and, from a hidden cup- 
board, brought out a substantial meal of venison 
and bread. When the meal was finished he com- 
manded: “Lie down and rest now, thou and the 
lad, while I keep watch. Thou wilt need thy wits 
on the morrow.” 

Humphrey reflected. Then he turned to Hugo. 
“ Lie down, lad,” he said kindly. “ The old man 
is crazed when he talketh of moles, but he is right 
when he saith we have need of our wits on the 
morrow. And that meaneth we must rest in faith 
to-night.” 

The old man smiled triumphantly. “ I be not 
so crazed as thou thinkest, neither,” he said. Thy 

[ 297 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


mole is not only thy good fortune, but mine also.” 
With that he put the remains of the meal back 
in the cupboard, shut the door, and replenished 
the fire. He then threw himself down on the 
earthen floor beside it, and lay there grinning and 
grimacing at the flames till Hugo and Humphrey 
fell asleep. A dozen times before dawn old Bar- 
tlemy rose to bend over the two, grinning and 
grimacing as he did so, and clasping his hands 
in ecstasy. But when the two awoke he was gone. 

Humphrey, when he discovered Bartlemy’s ab- 
sence, started up in alarm. “ I did get no dream, 
lad,” he said to Hugo, whom his movements had 
aroused; “and the old man is gone. I know not 
what to do.” 


[ 298 ] 


CHAPTER XXII 


ST hour went by and still old Bartlemy did 



Til not come; an hour of silence broken only 
by occasional whispers between Hugo and Hum- 
phrey. Then the old man softly opened the door 
and stood smiling before them. 

“Thou didst think me false, is it not so?” he 
said, addressing Humphrey and casting an affec- 
tionate glance as he did so on the small mole near 
the end of the Saxon’s nose. 

Great as was his anxiety, Hugo could but laugh 
to see how the serving-man was placed before 
himself, and all on account of an unfortunate 
blemish on his countenance. And his enjoyment 
was heightened by the embarrassment and half- 
concealed irritation it occasioned Humphrey. 

But old Bartlemy paid no attention to Hugo 
and his merry mood. He proceeded with despatch 
to set out the morning meal from the hidden cup- 
board. “ Eat well and heartily,” he exhorted both 
his guests; “for so shall ye be able to set your 
enemies at defiance. A full stomach giveth a man 


[ 299 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


courage and taketh him through many dangers. 
But why,” he continued, addressing Humphrey 
solicitously, “ why shouldest thou have many 
dangers? Why dost thou not let the young lord 
ride forth alone?” 

Humphrey’s answer was a look so full of indig- 
nation that the old man ventured to say nothing 
more, except, “ I see that thou art not to be per- 
suaded, and I will e’en help ye both.” 

So saying, he went outside and brought in a 
bundle or pack which he had, on his return to the 
hut, secreted in a convenient hiding-place. “ I 
have been to a spot I wot of,” he began, “ and 
there did I borrow this raiment. I did borrow it, 
I say, and ye must put it on. When ye have no 
further need of it, then I will return it to its 
owner.” 

Humphrey gazed at him in astonishment. At 
last he said, “ Thou knowest that we journey 
hence this morn and shall see thee no more. What 
meanest thou?” 

“ Why, this,” was the response. “I go with 
thee.” 

“Thou goest with me!” repeated Humphrey. 

“ Ay,” was the stubborn answer. “ Thinkest 

[ 300 ] 




A BOY’S RIDE 


thou I will lightly part with him who is decreed 
to make my fortune? Thou art the man the 
fortune-teller spake to me of. 4 Cleave to him that 
hath a mole near the end of his nose,’ saith the 
fortune-teller, and I will of a surety do so. But 
tell me truly, should the young lord be captured, 
would thy ability to make my fortune be 
diminished? ” 

“ Yea, verily,” answered Humphrey, positively. 
“ Were my dear lad captured, I could do nothing 
for thee.” 

44 Thou needst say no more,” said the old man, 
for the first time that morning looking full at 
Hugo. 44 He seemeth a good lad. I will protect 
him also with my life, if need be. For what will 
a man not do if he may thereby escape the mar- 
ring of his fortune?” 

Old Bartlemy now ceased speaking and devoted 
all his energies to hastily undoing the bundle he 
had brought in, and sorting out a portion of what 
it contained. 

44 What hast thou there?” asked Humphrey, 
contemptuously, as he pointed to a woman’s robe, 
tunic, and hood of green. 44 Here be no fine 
ladies.” 


[ 301 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Nay, speak not so fast,” replied old Bartlemy, 
stubbornly. “ Thy young lord will don these 
things, and then shalt thou see a fair lady on a 
journey bent.” 

Hugo flushed. “ I wear no woman’s dress,” he 
said with determination. 

“ Why, how now? ” demanded old Bartlemy. 
“ Art thou better than Longchamp, bishop of Ely? 
When he did flee he fled as a woman, and in a 
green tunic and hood, moreover. When thou art 
as old as thou now art young, thou wilt welcome 
the means that helpeth thee safely on.” The old 
man’s manner was so changed from that of the 
night before, and he displayed so much energy, 
foresight, and knowledge, that Hugo and Hum- 
phrey looked at each other in wonder. He was 
still old, but he was no longer senile. 

“ Knowest thou not,” he continued, “ that the 
king’s men look for thee either as the young lord 
or as the false priest’s novice? Dally no longer, 
but put on this woman’s garb.” 

“ Yea, lad,” counselled Humphrey, “ put it on. 
It will suit thee better than the king’s dungeon.” 

Thus urged, Hugo obeyed, and presently was 
stepping about the hut most discontentedly in the 

[ 302 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


guise of a woman. “ Stride not so manfully or 
we be undone,” cried old Bartlemy. “ Canst thou 
not mince thy gait? There! That hath a more 
seemly look.” 

The pack he had brought in was very large, 
and from it he now took the garments and armor 
of an esquire, which he handed to Humphrey. 
“ When thou shalt don these,” he said, “ it will 
come to pass that thou hast been sent to bring 
thy young lady safe to London town.” 

With alacrity Humphrey tossed aside his priest’s 
robe and clad himself in what old Bartlemy offered 
him. “ Now may I forget my pax vobiscum and 
no harm be done,” he exclaimed joyfully. 

Hugo could but smile at the pride and pleasure 
of Humphrey’s manner as he arrayed himself. 
“Ah, my good Humphrey!” he cried; “I have 
found thee out. Thou wouldst he an esquire, even 
as I would be a knight.” 

Humphrey sighed. “ Yea, lad,” he confessed, 
“ but I am but a Saxon serving-man.” 

Like a hawk the little old man was watching 

both. “And I have found thee out,” he said, 

turning to Hugo. “ The mole on his nose doth 

signify the good fortune thou wilt bring him, even 

[ 303 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


as it signifieth what he will do for me. Be sure, 
gentle lady, I shall serve thee well.” 

Hugo laughed and, in his character of lady, 
inclined his head courteously. 

Humphrey, who could not for a moment forget 
the business in hand, ignored this pleasantry and 
inquired curtly: “ But how goest thou with us, 
Bartlemy? Will not the men who were here last 
night know thee? ” 

“ Nay, verily,” replied Bartlemy. “ I have a 
friend to my counsel that they know not of. ’T is 
he who did lend these disguises, and did instruct 
me, moreover, in many matters. He did bid me 
overcome the young lord’s objections to wearing 
woman’s dress by naming Longchamp and his 
green tunic and hood. And many other matters 
he hath helped me to, even the whole conduct of 
the journey, as thou shaft presently see.” With 
one last look at Humphrey’s nose he backed out 
of the hut and made off in a surprisingly agile 
manner for one of his age. 

“ Now a plague upon his foolishness! ” exclaimed 
Humphrey. “ I had all but forgotten my nose, 
but he will be ever bringing it to my mind. Yet, 
if the mole on it take us safely through London, 

[ 304 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


I complain not. And I do hope he forget not his 
instructions and become again upon our hands the 
witless old man of last night.” He advanced to 
the door and glanced out. “But here come two 
horses and a mule,” he continued. “ Whose they 
be, I know not, nor what hath been done with 
ours.” 

Hugo at this also looked out the door. “ In 
size and in gait these horses be ours,” he said. 

“Yea, lad; hut what should be thy black is a 
rusty brown with a star in his forehead and one 
white foot. And what should be my gray is that 
same rusty brown with two white feet and a patch 
on his side. And the tails of both be bobbed, and 
the manes cropped, and the saddles and housings 
be different. This is more of Bartlemy’s ‘ friend 
to his counsel,’ perchance. And I hope his friend 
be not the Evil One.” He paused a moment. 
“ Seest thou the old woman on the mule that 
leadeth the horses?” he continued. 

“ That is Bartlemy,” replied Hugo. 

“ Ay,” agreed Humphrey. “ But we had not 
known it had we not been made ready for mys- 
teries. He looketh like an ancient crone, and will 
be thy old nurse, no doubt, going with thee on 

20 [ 305 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


thy journey. Well, they be wise men that would 
know the five of us.” 

“ Five? ” questioned Hugo. 

“Ay, lad. Thou and Bartlemy and I and the 
two horses. Perchance the mule is honest and what 
he seemeth to be.” 

Bartlemy, having tied the animals, now came 
up to the door of the hut in great exultation. 
“ What thinkest thou of these strange horses, 
Humphrey? ” he asked. 

“I do think they lack their tails,” answered 
Humphrey, gravely, “ which is a sad lack in 
summer.” 

The old man grinned. “ And what more think- 
est thou?” he asked. 

“ I do think they have need of manes also,” was 
the reply. 

With an air of pride the old man, clad in his 
woman’s dress, consisting of a long, loose, blue 
robe surmounted by a long, red head-rail which 
reached to his knees, walked back to the horses. 
“ Come hither,” he said to Humphrey. “ It were 
not well to cut off what one may need before it 
grow again. Seest thou how only the outside of 
the tail is cut so as to bush out over what is 

[306 j 


A BOY’S RIDE 


braided fine in many strands and caught up cun- 
ningly beneath? And come hither. Seest thou 
how the mane is cunningly looped and gummed, 
so that it seemeth to be short, when a dip in the 
stream will make it long again? And this brown 
is but a stain, and the white patches a bleach that 
will last but till the horse sheds again.” 

“ This is the work of thy friend? ” inquired 
Humphrey, gravely. 

“ Yea,” answered old Bartlemy, jubilantly. 

“ And he is an honest man? ” 

Old Bartlemy frowned. “ He is my friend. 
And he hath served thee well, if he hath kept thee 
and the lad from the hands of the king. Ask no 
more. He had not done so much, but that I did 
tell him it was to make my fortune. And now 
•mount, my esquire! mount, my gentle lady! and 
I, thy nurse, will mount. And we will all away 
to London town.” 

“ By which road? ” asked Humphrey, reining in 
his stained and bleached horse. 

“ By the Watling Street,” was the confident 

answer. 

Humphrey seemed dissatisfied. Seeing which 
the old man said: “Why, we must e’en go by; 

[ 307 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


the Watling Street or the Ermine Street, since 
we have the young lady here in charge. Such 
is the custom of travellers to go by one or the 
other,” 

“ I like not the Watling Street,” objected 
Humphrey. 

“Didst hear the men at the door of my hut?” 
asked old Bartlemy, earnestly. 

“Yea,” replied Humphrey, briefly. 

“ Didst note how he who watcheth for us on 
the Watling Street did tell his plans in a voice 
that all might hear? ” 

“ Yea.” 

“ Therefore I go by the Watling Street and 
not by the Ermine Street,” said old Bartlemy, 
with determination. “ He that hath so little dis- 
cretion that he telleth his plans in the ears of all 
who may listen is less to be feared than he that 
sayeth little. He that watcheth for us on the 
Ermine Street hath keen eyes and a silent tongue. 
Therefore go we by the Watling Street and, more- 
over, the friend to my counsel hath bid me so to 
do. I warrant thee more than one priest will be 
stopped there, while the esquire and the young 
lady and the nurse escape notice.” 

[ 308 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


“ Mayhap thou art right,” agreed Humphrey, 
after some reflection. 

Bartlemy did not wait to answer, but, giving his 
mule a slap with the reins, set forward, and in a 
moment all three were crossing the glade, whence 
they followed the same bridle-path by which Hugo 
and Humphrey had come the day before, and so 
gained the Watling Street. Many people were 
upon it, and Bartlemy, following the instructions 
of him who had planned for him, managed to ride 
near enough to a merchant’s party to be mistaken 
as members of it by an unthinking observer. 

In his garb of esquire Humphrey was more at 
home than in that of the priest, and he looked 
boldly about him. “ Here be a strange thing, 
lad,” he said. “ As we did come upon this road 
I did see a priest with his novice pass by. Seest 
thou that other near at hand? And looking back 
I see yet another. He that watcheth for us is 
like to have his hands full.” 

“ Many priests be abroad,” replied Hugo, with 
a smile. “ It was to that the Canon Thurstan 
trusted when he sent us forth.” 

“ He should, then, not have sent us to that ras- 
cally one at Oundle,” growled Humphrey. 

[ 309 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Speak not o’er much with the lady,” cautioned 
old Bartlemy, riding up. “It is not seemly. Let 
her stay by me, her nurse. So hath the friend to 
my counsel instructed me.” 

At once Hugo fell back, reining his horse along- 
side the mule and a half pace in advance; whereat 
old Bartlemy smiled in approbation. 

“ Where go we in London? ”» asked Hugo, 
curiously. 

“ Thou shalt see in good time,” answered Bar- 
tlemy. “It may be one place, it may be another. 
I can tell when we have passed him who watcheth 
for us. I know many places.” 

The old man, turning his face away, Hugo saw 
that he did not wish to talk further, so he con- 
tented himself by seeing as much as he could 
with his keen young eyes of what went on before 
him, old Bartlemy having previously cautioned 
him against gazing about over much. 

As they drew nearer the city the crowd became 
more dense, being swelled by those who were com- 
ing out of it on their way north. A little party 
of knights, esquires, pages, and ladies travelling 
at a faster pace overtook them, and so they were 
still better protected from observation than before, 

[ 310 ] 





A BOY’S RIDE 


as the new party were now obliged, by the throng, 
to go forward slowly. So on they went till they 
came to the church of St. Andrew, and the Fleet 
River, and, crossing the bridge, found themselves, 
as old Bartlemy said, not far from the New Gate, 
through which they must enter the city. They 
had no sooner entered than old Bartlemy said to 
Hugo, 

“ Thou didst not see the man at the hut? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Hugo, with a nervous start. 

“Yon at the entrance to the meat market op- 
posite the Grey Friars is he. Seem not to notice 
him, but mark him well. He hath a bailiff to his 
help, and it will go hard with somebody.” 

“ He stoppeth not that priest and his novice,” 
observed Hugo. 

“ That is because the bailiff knoweth both and 
hath instructed him,” answered Bartlemy. “ Look 
downward now right modestly till we be safely 
past, for thou hast a speaking eye. Thou art 
not lucky like the good Humphrey, to have a 
dull eye, which seeth much and seemeth to see 
naught.” 

Hugo glanced down as he was bid, and soon 
they were past in safety. But Humphrey, half 

[ 311 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


turning in his saddle and gazing back, saw a 
priest and his novice stopped. “ And the priest 
rideth a gray and the novice a black,” mused 
Humphrey, “ which is a wonderful thing, and not 
to be accounted for except by chance.” 


[ 312 ] 


CHAPTER XXIII 


T HE pace at which Walter Skinner had left 
Dunstable for London he kept up for some 
two miles, when he slackened his rein at the bid- 
ding of his half -drunken fancy. 

“I be for London town,” he said to himself 
with a serious look. “ And other men than I have 
been there before now. Yea, verily, and have got 
them safe home again into the bargain. But not 
so will I do. For in London will I bide, either till 
the king make a duke of me or till I become the 
Lord Mayor. For I be resolved to rise in the 
world. And the first step toward it is to be re- 
solved; yea, and to be determined; and to look 
Dame Fortune full in the face and to say to her, 
‘ Play no tricks on me.’ ” 

By this time he was come up with a belated car- 
rier who, since his cart was empty and he upon his 
return journey, dared to be upon the road at night. 
There was no moon, and in the starlight Walter 
Skinner could see but imperfectly. “ And who art 

[ 313 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


thou? ” he demanded loftily, “ that thou shouldest 
creak and rumble along over the road and block 
the way of a rising man? The sun doth rise, and 
why not I? Only the sun riseth not in the middle 
of the night, and neither will I. Nay, verily, but I 
will wait to rise till I be come to London town. 
And so I bid thee, whoever thou art, make place 
for me that I may pass thee upon the road.” 

The carter, wondering much who this drunken 
madman might be, made no answer but drove his 
creaking vehicle forward slowly as before, and in 
the middle of the highway. Behind him, and at 
the tail of the cart, followed Walter Skinner with 
equal slowness. For some moments he said 
nothing more as, with closed eyes and heavily 
nodding head, he rode along. Then he roused 
himself. “Stop!” he called fiercely. “Stop, I 
say. I will go to bed in thy wagon or cart or 
whatever it may be, which I cannot see for want 
of light.” 

“ I carry not passengers for naught,” observed 
the carter, civilly. 

“Yea, but thou wilt carry me,” retorted Walter 
Skinner. “ I tell thee I serve the king. Why, 
the prior of St. Edmund’s did give me a horse when 

[ 314 ] 


A BOY S HIDE 


mine own was gone, and wilt thou refuse me a bed? 
It shall go hard with thee, varlet that thou art, if 
thou dost. I be ready to sink from weariness. 
Lend me a hand down and into thy cart ; lead thou 
my horse, and so shall we proceed, I at rest as be- 
cometh the king’s man, and thou serving me, thy 
proper master.” 

The carter was slow of wit, and, as most men 
did, he trembled at the mention of the king. He 
therefore did as he was requested, and Walter 
Skinner was soon bumping along the road, oblivi- 
ous to all his surroundings. In the cart he might 
have remained until he reached St. Albans, but 
that, just at dawn, he had a frightful dream. He 
was again at Dunstable, and the landlord of the 
Shorn Lamb was about to deliver him to the king 
w T ho stood, in his dream, a hideous monster with 
horns upon his head. In a shiver of dread he 
aw r oke. The cart was standing still, and, at the 
side of the road, reposed the carter overcome by 
sleep. By his side lay his drinking-horn. With 
trembling limbs Walter Skinner climbed down from 
the cart. Then, seizing the carter’s horn, he untied 
his horse, which was fastened to the tail of the cart, 
and mounted; took from the horn a long drink, 

[ 315 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


and once more set out at a furious pace which 
shortly became once more a slow one. Pausing 
only long enough at St. Albans to procure break- 
fast for himself and a feed for his horse, he con- 
tinued on to London which he reached late in the 
afternoon. But he did not go in at New Gate, for, 
making a sharp turn at St. Andrew’s, he went south 
till he came to Fleet street, when, turning to the 
left, he entered the city through Lud Gate. Clad 
in his scullion’s garb, and with his face flushed from 
drink he presented a strange appearance as he per- 
mitted his horse to carry him whither he would 
through the narrow streets. 

“ Here be people enough,” he said to himself, 
“ and yea, verily, here be noise enough. But I will 
stop all that when I be Lord Mayor. What! shall 
mine ears ring with vile din? If so be I would 
speak to my horse could he hear me? Nay, that he 
could not. When I be Lord Mayor no smith shall 
strike on anvil in my presence. And when I pass 
by, let the carpenters cease to drive their nails; 
let all the armorers cease their hammering; let the 
coopers forbear to hoop their casks; and then can 
I gather my wits together, which is more than I 
can now do.” 


[ 316 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


He was right as to the din; for here in these 
narrow lanes the craftsmen lived and worked. 
Each one had his tenement of one room above and 
one below. In the one below he worked, or in the 
street, and in the room above he dwelt with his 
family. 

As he went uncertainly up one of these narrow 
lanes and down another, leading north or south 
out of Cheapside, as the case might be, the rabble 
began to gather about him and to bait him with 
jeers of various sorts. 

“ Why, how now!” he exclaimed, when he had 
once more come into Cheapside. And he put on 
his fiercest air, which sat strangely enough on one 
clad as a scullion. “Do ye gibe and jeer at me 
who am servant to the king? What know ye of 
young runaway lords and Saxon serving-men? 
And the perils of a long way, and the keeper of 
the Shorn Lamb? I could open your eyes for 
ye, if I thought it worth my while. But ye be 

all base-born knaves — ” 

The last words were but out of his mouth when 
a strong hand jerked him to the ground. And, 
not seeing what he did, as he struck fiercely out, 
his clenched fist landed on the chest of the warden 

[ 317 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


who was passing, and Walter Skinner was promptly 
seized and about to be baled off to punishment. 

Cheapside was the principal market-place of 
London. It was broad, and bordered on each side 
by booths or sheds for the sale of merchandise. 
A sudden disturbance attracted the attention of 
the bailiff who held Walter Skinner. And, even 
as he turned his head to look, the very man that 
had dragged Walter Skinner from his horse de- 
tached the little man from the grasp of the care- 
less officer, and bade him flee. “ Flee away, thou 
half -drunken scullion,” said his liberator. “ Thou 
dost lack thy wits, and so I would not have thee 
also lack thy liberty.” 

Now Walter Skinner was in that condition 
when, although he could not walk straight, he 
could run. And away he went, his first impetus 
carrying him well down into Bow Lane, which 
opened from Cheapside to the south, where he 
speedily brought up against a curb post and fell 
into the gutter. His appearance w r as not improved 
when he rose, but he started again, and took this 
time, not the curb post, but a stout farmer. The 
farmer instinctively bracing himself to meet the 
shock of Walter Skinner’s fall against him, no 

[ 318 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


harm was done; but he whirled round, grasped the 
little terrified rascal by the shoulder, and hurried 
him into the adjacent inn yard. “ Had I been 
an old woman or a young child I might have been 
sprawling in the gutter,” he began severely, “ and 
all because of thee. What account givest thou of 
thyself? ” 

“ Thou art but a yeoman,” returned Walter 
Skinner, disdainfully. “ And dost thou ask me 
to account to thee? Account thou to me, sirrah. 
What didst thou in the street standing there like 
a gutter post to obstruct the way of passengers 
in haste? But for thee I had been well sped on 
my way.” 

The farmer heard him in amazement. Then he 
said: “I do perceive that thou art a fool; and 
with fools I never meddle.” And seizing him once 
more by the shoulder, he thrust him into the street. 
“ Speed on thy way, little braggart,” he said, 
“ even till thou comest to thy master, who must 
be the Evil One himself.” 

Walter Skinner sped away, by degrees slack- 
ing his pace till, after much wandering, he came 
to a low public house on Thames Street, where he 
slipped in, hid himself in a corner, and went fast 

[ 319 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


asleep. It was noon of the next day before he 
was discovered and routed out by a tapster. “ This 
be no place for a scullion,” said the tapster. “ Get 
to thy duties.” 

“ I be no scullion,” retorted Walter Skinner, 
indignantly. “ Till now I was the king’s man 
with good hope to be a duke or the mayor of 
London.” 

“ I go to tell master of thee,” returned the tap- 
ster. “ And he will set thee to scour knives in a 
trice.” 

The tapster was as good as his word, and Walter 
Skinner, much against his will, was soon at work. 
“ Here be another degradation,” he muttered over 
his knife blades, “ and I stand it not. I be not 
so mean-spirited as to labor, nor to do the bidding 
of other men who should do mine.” So saying, he 
stole from the kitchen and the house into the 
streets, where he became a vagabond, and so re- 
mained, along with thousands of others like unto 
him. 

Meanwhile Hugo and Humphrey and old Bar- 
tlemy were having troubles of their own. The 
places in London suitable for them to stop at 
which old Bartlemy knew proved to be known to 

[ 320 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


him by report only. And, lacking the present help 
of him whom Humphrey was pleased to call Bar- 
tlemy’s “ friend to his counsel,” the whole party 
soon knew not where to go; for the old man had 
lost the energy with which he had escorted them 
to London, and seemed to have sunk back into 
the semi-helpless mixture of shrewdness and credu- 
lity which he appeared when Hugo and Humphrey 
had first met him. One thing, and one only, seemed 
to engross most of his attention, and that was 
Humphrey’s mole. And he was ever prating of 
the fortune it was sure to bring him. 

“ Lad,” said Humphrey at last, when they had 
been two days in the town, “ if we are to come 
safely off we must be rid of him. The gumming 
up of the horses’ manes and the braiding of their 
tails have already made the innkeeper look strangely 
at us. Had he not set it down as the trick of some 
malicious groom, it had been worse for us. And 
I do fear the old man’s babbling tongue. I will 
sound him to see how much will content him, and 
perchance from thy pouch and mine the sum may 
be made up.” 

Old Bartlemy was growing weary of his woman’s 
dress, and weary of hovering around Hugo in the 

21 [ 321 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


assumed capacity of his nurse. He was not in 
his apartment when Humphrey went to seek him, 
and further search revealed the fact that he was 
not in the house. So, somewhat disturbed, Hum- 
phrey went forth to find him, taking with him in 
his bosom Hugo’s pouch as well as his own. The 
inn where they were now stopping was the White 
Horse in Lombard Street, and as Humphrey 
issued forth into the street he knew not which way 
to turn. “ The old nurse did go south toward the 
waterside,” volunteered a groom, who observed 
Humphrey’s hesitation. “ She seemeth like one 
that lacketh wit, and so I did keep a watch upon 
her till she went beyond my sight.” 

Humphrey flung the groom a penny and went 
south himself at a good gait. “If he be not at 
some public house I shall find him at a cock- 
fighting, no doubt,” said Humphrey to himself. 
It was now the second day of July and clear and 
warm. The streets were full of hucksters having 
for sale, besides their usual wares, summer fruits 
and vegetables. But to all their cries Humphrey 
turned a deaf ear as he pushed impatiently on, 
keeping a sharp lookout for old Bartlemy. And 
what was his amazement to come upon him at last 

[ 322 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


at the river side clad, not as the nurse, but in his 
own proper character. 

“ How now! ” exclaimed Humphrey, with a 
frown. “ Where is thy woman’s garb? And 
what meanest thou to cast it aside in this manner? ” 

The old man peered up at him with a sly look 
on his face. “ Ay, thou mayest storm,” he said; 
“ but if I be tired of woman’s garb, what is that 
to thee? ” 

“ Why, this,” returned Humphrey. “ Thou dost 
endanger our heads by this change.” 

The old man shook his head and smiled a silly 
smile. “ Nay,” he made answer. “ I would not 
endanger thy head, for that would endanger the 
mole upon thy nose, and so my fortune. Thou 
doest me wrong.” 

Humphrey looked at him attentively and saw 
that a temporary weakness of mind due to his age 
had overtaken him. So he said in a soothing tone: 
“ Where didst thou leave thy nurse’s garb? I pray 
thee put it on again.” 

Again there came the sly look over the old man’s 
withered face. “ I do know where I did leave it,” 
he said; “but I put it not on again. The friend 
I have to my counsel did bid me put it on, and 

[ 323 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


I did obey him, for he is a magician. But I like 
it not, and I will wear it no more. Why, look 
thou,” he continued earnestly. “ When I wear it 
I must remain with the young lord, and be not 
free to consort with other men, and see and hear 
all that goeth on. Wherefore I will wear it no 
more.” 

Humphrey looked at him in despair. Then he 
said with assumed cheerfulness: “ I will now make 
thy fortune for thee. So mayest thou return to 
the wood while we journey on.” 

Old Bartlemy, as he listened, smiled with the 
delight of a child. “ Said not the fortune-teller 
truly? ” he cried. “ And how much is my fortune 
that thou wilt make? ” 

“ Why, that I hardly can tell,” returned Hum- 
phrey. “What callest thou a fortune?” 

Old Bartlemy looked at him craftily. “ The 
friend to my counsel did say one hundred and fifty 
gold pieces, and that will pay for the disguises.” 

“No less?” asked Humphrey. 

“ Nay,” returned old Bartlemy. “If thou dost 
leave me, I may never see the mole upon thy nose 
again. Therefore pay to me the one hundred and 
fifty gold pieces before I ask thee more. For the 

[ 324 ] 




A BOY’S RIDE 


friend to my counsel did say, ‘ Take no less, and 
as much more as thou canst get.’ ” 

Thou art hard to content,” said Humphrey. 

But come thou to the nearest reputable inn, 
where we may be unwatched, and I will pay to 
thee the one hundred and fifty gold pieces which 
thou dost require. Should they of the street see 
thee receive it, thou wouldst not keep it long.” 

The old man, with a crafty shake of the head, 
followed along in Humphrey’s wake. “ I have the 
wit to keep my fortune,” he said. “No man may 
wrest it from me.” 

Without further words Humphrey led the way, 
his mind full of anxious thoughts as to how he 
was to get himself, Hugo, and the horses away 
from the White Horse in Lombard Street without 
rousing suspicion when the mule of old Bartlemy 
was left behind and the old man himself in his 
character of nurse was missing. He was still busily 
thinking when they came to a respectable little 
inn called the Hart. Turning to old Bartlemy, 
who was following close behind, he said, “ Here 
do we stop till I pay thee what thou hast 
asked.” 

Old Bartlemy said nothing, but he rubbed his 

[ 325 ] 


A BOY S BIDE 


hands together in delight, and kept so close to 
Humphrey that he almost trod on his heels. 

“ Now,” said Humphrey, when they were alone 
and the old man had been paid, “ I ask thee this 
grace, Bartlemy. Wilt thou not once more put 
on the nurse’s garb and come back with me to 
the White Horse till I can pay the reckoning and 
get away? After that thou mayest cast it aside 
and wear it no more.” 

“ Nay,” replied old Bartlemy, jingling the gold 
pieces and looking at them with gloating eyes. 
“ Nay, I will put on woman’s dress no more.” 

“ Not if I pay thee to do so? ” 

“ Nay. I have here my fortune. What have 
I need of more?” And he sat down obstinately 
and became at once absorbed in counting over his 
gold pieces. 

Humphrey, seeing that nothing was to be 
gained, and anxious for Hugo’s welfare, at once 
left the room and the house and set out for the 
White Horse. 


[ 326 ] 


CHAPTER XXIV 


T HROUGH the same crowded streets, and 
entirely unmindful of the people who jos- 
tled him, Humphrey mechanically pushed his way 
on his return journey. Plow should he and Hugo 
get away from the White Horse? He knew very 
little of the world, but this much he knew, that for 
them to attempt to leave with the old nurse missing 
would be to thoroughly arouse the suspicion which, 
so far, was half dormant. 

“ I will pay the reckoning now,” he said to him- 
self as he entered the inn yard. “ And then we 
must do as we can to give them the slip. I know 
not why, but dreams be slow to come in this town. 
I would we were safely out of it.” 

He had but just paid it, and the innkeeper was 
about to inquire concerning his departure, when 
a great excitement arose. One of the frequent 
fires, for which the London of that day was noted, 
had broken out. 

A fire, sayest thou?” cried Humphrey. 

[ 327 ] 


u 


A BOY S RIDE 


“Yea,” answered a groom, bursting into the bar. 
“ A fire, master! a fire! ” 

Away ran the groom followed by the master. 
And Hugo coming down at this moment, Hum- 
phrey hurried to him. “ Make haste, lad! ” he 
cried. “ Come with me to the stables. We must 
e’en serve ourselves and get out the horses and be 
off, ere the fire abate and the innkeeper and the 
grooms come back.” 

Hugo wondered, but said nothing, for he saw 
that Humphrey was greatly excited. And with 
despatch the horses were saddled and led out. “ I 
would not that people lose their homes unless they 
must,” said Humphrey, when they were safely 
away; “but the fire hath saved us, and I warrant 
thee we pay not one hundred and fifty gold pieces 
for the saving neither.” 

“ Didst pay so much? ” asked Hugo. 

“ Yea, lad,” answered Humphrey. “ It seem- 
eth the ‘ friend to his counsel ’ did set the price he 
was to ask, and nothing less would content him. 
He did even hint at more.” 

“ And how much remaineth? ” asked Hugo. 

“But fifty gold pieces, lad. We be now near 
our journey’s end. Mayhap they be enough.” 

[ 328 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


“ Yea,” replied Hugo, thoughtfully. “ I must 
not go to the priory of the Holy Trinity unless I 
have great need. So said my uncle to me.” 

And where is that, lad? ” 

“ Here in London. It is a powerful and wealthy 
priory, but my uncle did say it is as well to pass 
it by if I can.” 

4 4 Mind thou thine uncle, lad. But whither go 
we now? ” 

44 To Dover. Then do we take ship to France.” 

They had now come to the new London bridge 
which was of stone. Over it they went, and had 
just started on their journey from its southern 
end when, in haste, old Bartlemy, clad as the nurse, 
arrived at the White Horse. He had slowly and 
laboriously counted his gold pieces three times 
before it occurred to him that one hundred and 
fifty of these treasures was no great sum. And 
that, if he did as Humphrey had requested, he 
would be able to add other gold pieces to his store. 
Thus thinking, he had repaired to the hiding-place 
of his disguise, put it on, and set out. 

At the same moment of his arrival the innkeeper 
came back, and a little later the grooms began to 
straggle in. 


[329 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


Old Bartlemy, however, paid no attention to 
who came in or who went out. His sole concern 
was to find Humphrey. Not succeeding, he ap- 
pealed to the innkeeper to know what was become 
of him. 

“ Why, that I know not,” replied the innkeeper, 
indifferently. “ Most like he hath not yet returned 
from the fire.” 

Impatiently old Bartlemy, forgetting that he 
was a woman, and nurse to a young lady of the 
better sort, sat down in the inn yard upon a bench. 
And ever and anon as no Humphrey appeared he 
got up and mingled with the knots of other men 
standing about, only to return to his seat. Fi- 
nally he could restrain himself no longer, but 
eagerly began to inquire of all newcomers as to 
the whereabouts of Humphrey. Now while his 
were questions which no man could answer, they 
were put in such a manner as to make men stare 
curiously upon him. For they were such questions 
as one man would ask of another, and not the 
timid inquiries of an ignorant old woman. Finally, 
one of the bystanders more daring than the rest 
advanced, and boldly turned back the hood of the 
head-rail, letting it hang down over his shoulders, 

[ 330 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


and the head of an old man was revealed. A mur- 
mur of surprise and expectation now ran through 
the crowd, and the same bold hand bodily removed 
the head-rail and the robe beneath it; and there 
stood old Bartlemy in his gray woollen tunic, his 
legs bare from the knees down, and his feet en- 
cased in skin shoes reaching to his ankles. 

“ Well done, mother! ” cried the bold revealer of 
his identity. “ And now do thou tell us speedily 
who is this esquire Humphrey whom thou seekest. 
Mayhap he is as little an esquire as thou art an old 
woman.” 

Bartlemy looked from face to face, but he an- 
swered nothing. 

At this moment a groom came running from the 
stables. “ Master! master!” he cried, addressing 
the innkeeper, “ the horse of the esquire Humphrey 
be gone.” 

“ Gone, sirrah! ” repeated the innkeeper. “ And 
whither is he gone? ” 

“ Why, that I know not, master. I only know 
that the horse of the young lady did bear him com- 
pany. But the mule of the nurse is still there, 
wherefore there is no thievery, since he did take 
but his own.” 


[ 331 ] 


A BOY’S HIDE 


The bystanders now crowded more closely around 
Bartlemy, with the innkeeper at the front as ques- 
tioner. “ Tell us truly, old man,” said the inn- 
keeper, threateningly; “who is this esquire Hum- 
phrey, and who is the young lady that beareth him 
company? Make haste with thine answer, or it 
shall be worse for thee.” 

“ Why,” replied old Bartlemy, slowly, as his gaze 
wandered from face to face, “ the esquire is the 
false priest from Oundle, and the young lady is 
his novice.” 

At this reply a man from the rear elbowed his 
way to the side of the innkeeper. “ I know not 
how it may please thee,” he said, “ but, on the Wat- 
ling Street by the meat market two days and more 
agone, a man with a bailiff to his help did stop a 
priest and his novice. And he did act like a mad- 
man when he did discover that he had stopped the 
wrong persons, and prated of a reward from the 
king which he must lose.” 

Old Bartlemy grinned as he listened. Seeing 
which the innkeeper pounced upon him. “ Were 
these the priest and his novice? ” he asked fiercely. 

“ Yea, verily,” answered old Bartlemy, proudly. 
“ And they would have been caught but for me. 

[ 332 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


And now I know not whither they be gone,” he 
added disconsolately. “ And perchance I shall see 
them no more; nor shall I see the mole on the 
nose of the good Humphrey more; and so, fare- 
well to the fortune it might bring me.” 

“ And who is the young lady? ” said the inn- 
keeper, with a fierce look. 

“ Why, she be a fine lad,” replied old Bartlemy. 

The innkeeper reflected amid a low hum of com- 
ment. Then he turned on the man who had told 
him of the priest and his novice. “ Thou sayest the 
king hath a reward for this priest and his novice? ” 
he asked. 

“ Yea.” 

“And who be they?” asked the innkeeper. 
“ They are like to be as little priest and his novice 
as they be esquire and young lady. Who be they, 
I say? ” 

“ I had speech later with the bailiff, and he did 
say that the priest was a Saxon serving-man, and 
the novice was the young lord, Josceline De Al- 
dithely, escaping to his father.” 

“ After them! after them! ” cried the innkeeper, 
furiously. *“ They be a prize! ” 

In the hurly-burly and din that now arose old 

[3331 


A BOY’S RIDE 


Bartlemy slipped out to the stables, got possession 
of his mule, and rode off unnoticed. 

There were in the London of this time many 
great town houses of the nobles. And that of Lord 
De Launay was situated in Lombard Street, not far 
from the White Horse. To it he went riding, at 
this moment, with a small retinue in livery. He 
looked in surprise at the commotion before the 
White Horse, and beckoning a retainer he said, 
“ Find me the meaning of this uproar.” Then he 
rode slowly on to his home. 

He had but entered the great square courtyard 
when the retainer came in on a gallop. “ Your 
lordship, it be this,” he said. “ They have but just 
struck the trail of the young Lord De Aldithely 
and will presently run him to earth, hoping for 
the reward offered by the king. He rideth now 
disguised as a lady, and the serving-man rideth 
as his esquire.” 

Now Lord De Launay was he who in the guise 
of a scullion had set Walter Skinner free, and all 
for the friendship he bore Josceline’s father. So 
calling up twenty of his men-at-arms he sent them 
in pursuit. “ No doubt they ride to Dover,” he said. 
“ Make haste to come up with them. Bid the young 

[ 334 ] 


A BOY S RIDE 


lord cast aside his woman’s garb, and stay ye by 
them as an escort on the road. Leave them not till 
they be safely aboard ship and off to France.” 

The men-at-arms of Lord De Launay were of 
the best of that time, being both bold and faithful, 
and their master stood but little in awe of the king. 
Not that he openly flouted the king’s authority, 
but that, at all times, he dared to pursue the course 
that seemed to him best. And this he could do for 
two reasons; he pursued it quietly, and the king 
felt a little fear of him. Moreover, the king did 
not discover how much he owed to him for the 
thwarting of his plans. Else, powerful noble 
though he was, Lord De Launay would have been 
punished. 

Meanwhile, Hugo and Humphrey were making 
the best of their way, and stopping not to look to 
the right hand nor to the left. After them gal- 
loped the men-at-arms, and not many miles out of 
the city they overtook them. 

Upon their approach the fugitives gave them- 
selves up as lost. “Lad,” said Humphrey, de- 
spairingly, “ w r e have done our best, and we be 
taken at last. No doubt these be the king’s 
men-at-arms that ride so swiftly upon our track. 

[ 335 ] 


A BOY’S HIDE 


See how they be armed, and how their horses 
stride! ” 

Hugo looked over his shoulder, and his face was 
pale. But there was no regret in his heart for the 
attempt he had made to save Josceline, even though 
the king’s dungeon seemed now to open before 
him. He said nothing, and a moment later the 
men-at-arms swept up and surrounded them, their 
leader saluting Hugo, much to the boy’s surprise. 
“ My lord bids thee cast aside thy woman’s dress,” 
said he, “ and ride in thine own character.” 

“And who art thou? And who is thy lord? 
And wherefore art thou come?” demanded Hum- 
phrey, bravely, as he spurred his horse between 
Hugo and the man-at-arms who had spoken. 

The man-at-arms laughed. “I see thou hast 
cause to dread pursuit,” he said. “ And, in truth, 
we did pass some vile knaves riding fast to over- 
take ye. One and all they do hope for the king’s 
reward, for the old man at the White Horse hath 
betrayed ye.” 

Closer to Hugo’s side Humphrey reined his 
horse, and the captain of the men-at-arms laughed 
louder than before. “ Why, what couldst thou do 
for the lad against us? ” he said. “ And yet, thou 

[ 336 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


art brave to try. But put away thy fears. Lord 
De Launay is, as thou shouldst know, the sworn 
friend of Lord De Aldithely, and he hath sent us to 
overtake ye and to carry ye safe to the ship at 
Dover. So let us on and set a merry pace for these 
knaves that would follow T us. But first, off with 
that woman’s robe, my young lord Josceline.” 

“Willingly!” cried Hugo, who did not even 
now betray the secret that he was not Josceline, 
not knowing what might come of it. And he threw 
off hood, cloak, and robe while Humphrey looked 
from the captain to the hoy and back again. But 
without a word to the faithful serving-man, the 
captain gave the command to the troop, and im- 
mediately all were in swift motion. 

A mile was left behind them, — two miles, — 
and now Humphrey looked at Hugo amazed. 
Among these men-at-arms who treated him with 
a respect which was like an elixir to him, the boy 
sat transformed. He held himself proudly, and 
seemed, as he sat, a part of his horse. His hand- 
some eyes shone, and a genial smile parted his lips. 

“ Who art thou, dear lad? ” thought Humphrey. 
“ And though that I cannot tell, yet this I know, 
thou art the equal of any De Aldithely.” And then 

22 [ 337 ] 


A BOY’S BIDE 


Hugo's eyes fell upon him, and they filled with 
a most kindly light. 

Meanwhile the motley crowd that had started in 
pursuit from the White Horse had become appre- 
ciably thinned upon the road. For one was no 
rider, and was promptly pitched over his horse’s 
head. Another, in his haste, had but imperfectly 
saddled his horse, so that he was speedily at the 
side of the road with his horse gone. Others had 
chosen poor mounts that could go but slowly, being 
waggoners’ horses and not accustomed to any but 
a slow motion. 

All these, with disappointment, saw the hope 
of the king’s reward slipping from them, and 
looked with envy upon the few who passed them 
and vanished from their sight, with determination 
written on their faces. Yet even these were des- 
tined to failure and, before Bochester was reached, 
were fain to turn back, having seen nothing of 
those whom they sought. 

But the troop of men-at-arms with Hugo and 
Humphrey still sped, halting for the night in a 
safe spot, and rising betimes in the morning to 
hurry on, until, their duty done, and the two safely 
aboard, they turned back at their leisure. 

[ 338 ] 


A BOY’S RIDE 


And all this time, upon the sea going down from 
Scotland was a ship which bore Lady De Aldithely 
and Josceline. Even in the wilds of Scotland she 
could not rest, knowing that no spot would remain 
unsearched if it should be discovered that it was 
Hugo Aungerville and not Josceline who had fled 
to France. So she and her son had embarked, and, 
two days before Hugo and Humphrey, they reached 
Lord De Aldithely. And there they found Wil- 
liam Lorimer and his men-at-arms, but, to Lady De 
Aldithely’s distress, no Hugo nor tidings of him. 

“ What lad is this thou speakest of ? ” asked 
Lord De Aldithely. 

And then Lady De Aldithely told him all. 
“ And his name,” she ended, “ is Hugo Aunger- 
ville. Knowest thou aught of him? ” 

“ I should,” replied Lord De Aldithely. 
“ Though I have never seen him, I do know he 
must be the son of my cousin, Eleanor De Al- 
dithely; for he hath her brave spirit, and her 
husband was Hugo Aungerville. And the lad 
shall be knighted or ever he arrive. For if he 
elude the king successfully and on such an errand, 
risking his own life to save that of another, he 
hath won his spurs.” 


[339 j 


A BOY S BIDE 


Thus it was that when Hugo came welcome was 
waiting for him in the warm hearts of his kins- 
folk. And when he had received his spurs, and 
Lord De Aldithely asked him what reward he 
could give him for saving Josceline from the 
king’s hands, the boy smiled archly upon the 
faithful Humphrey who stood by. “ I do ask 
thee,” he said, “ that Humphrey may be my 
esquire.” 

And from that day Humphrey, a serving-man 
no longer, followed his dear lad, not only in 
France, but later in England, when Magna 
Chart a had been signed, and it was safe for them 
all to return. 


% 


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